Election
by Rex
Summary: Many events...many people...all with one thing in mind: the Minister of Magic...a drama/comedy/thriller.
1. The Prejudiced and the Idiot

Election Chapter 1:

The Prejudiced and The Idiot

* * *

The man looked more like a bum than a wizard. His name was Duke Dingo, and he was a politician at heart. He sat in his Outback home in the middle of nowhere. He had gone to Hogwarts, a Ravenclaw at that.

But no one knew who Duke Dingo was. He was just a citizen of the wizard world, another voter for rival candidates Zeus MacArthur and Merlin O'Brien to convince.

Merlin O'Brien was a blood relative of Merlin. He was a businessman, and he owned the company that made Chocolate Frogs. He had recently acquired a 40% share in Gringott's, putting him on the board. He was being called a monopolistic meathead that wanted total control of business.

It was a beautiful day in London. In Diagon Alley, Merlin O'Brien was holding a campaign rally. It was New Year's Eve of 1999. His supporters waved banners, supporting the Pureblood Party, Merlin's party. The candidate had been decided long before that, but Merlin was still looking for a vice-minister to run with him. No one wanted to. Not even Duke Dingo, even though no one knew who he was.

The steps of Gringott's had a podium, and Merlin's voice was broadcast throughout London. Merlin was a tall man, with black hair and a streak of white. He was flashing his award-winning smile.

"Hello, fellow supporters. For thirty years, the Pureblood Party has never had control over any major portion of the Ministry. We have tried and tried, but our policies have never been popular with the world. We are once again pushing for the Anti-Muggle Act, which has been actively supported after the Liberation Party leaked evidence of our existence. Should I remind you who cleaned up after the mess? We did!!! It is time for an anti-Muggle reform in the Ministry. And now, I have the pleasure of introducing my running mate, one of the most influential men in our world today. Please welcome Lucius Malfoy!" Merlin stepped to the side, allowing Malfoy to come into view and take the podium.

"Hello! For years, I have supported the Pureblood Party. Our views have been debated, though we know they are the right way to go. As you know, it was the Pureblood Party that cleared up the Muggle Informing of 1998. Merlin and I promise reform and a restoring to the honor that we knew thirty years ago! I promise that when we're elected, we will put a stop to this Mudblood pity and rid the world of their existence! 

"We are tired of this Liberation Party rule. The Ministry is under a spell; they constantly believe the Liberation Party's way is the way to go. The Liberation Party told the Prime Minister of England about our existence! Isn't this something we swore to never allow, for we think of our existence and role in life higher than Muggles? So, here's for the rise of the Pureblood Party and the downfall of Mudbloods!" Malfoy raised his fist in the air. The crowd cheered. Lucius smiled to himself; he certainly knew how to pump up a crowd.

The roaring crowd was full of adults, all taking up the pathway in Diagon Alley. It was next to impossible to enter, much less enter if you were not a supporter of the Pureblood Party. 

Thirty minutes later, Diagon Alley looked like normal - if anything ever was normal. Draco Malfoy walked into Gringott's. He disappeared, walking through a secret passage to a downstairs chamber.

His father and Merlin were laughing about something. Draco was not sure what this was, but he was almost certain it had to do with the crowd. His father had told him a few weeks ago about his decision to run for vice-minister, and Draco felt slightly intimidated by this. After all, he had always felt proud about the fact that his father was a very important man; but he certainly didn't want to be ruled by his father - he'd had enough of that already! 

His father turned from his chair as Draco walked into the dimly lighted room.

"Hello, Draco. What a pleasant surprise! I thought you off somewhere, after all, you have had little time in this political race. But I'm glad you're here," the elder Malfoy said. Draco opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He knew his father would not like his opinion of the race, for Draco knew there was no way that the Pureblood Party could win. Their opinions were too radical, too prejudiced. 

"What is it, chap?" asked Merlin. Draco stood his ground for a moment before answering.

"You're...going...to have to work hard in order to beat to beat Zeus. The Liberation Party - no matter what their original purpose - represents the ideals of the majority. And the majority is who will win," Draco said, raising his eyebrows at the two powerful men. His father's response was unexpected.

"Then we'll have to get the voters on our side." Lucius stared intently at his son. Draco nodded.

"Yes, you would. But your ideals are more radical than Voldemort's, Salazar Slytherin's, or even Julius's for that matter! Voldemort and Julius fought wars in order to try and spread their beliefs. You have launched a war against Zeus MacArthur. He has no vice-minister, but he is easily the better candidate for the best interest of the majority. Do you understand what I am saying?" Merlin O'Brien rose to his feet. His head was red with rage. Lucius set his hand over Merlin's large stomach.

"He's right. We believe we're right. But do the majority believe we're right?" Merlin thought for a moment.

"Yes," he replied quickly. Lucius Malfoy laughed.

"You are obviously not a politician," he said seriously. "We have to convince the majority we are the right choice. Draco's right; it will take a while. Draco, any ideas?" Draco was shocked beyond belief. He had meant to take a stand against his father's ideals, only to find his father was taking him seriously! He checked his watch. There was utter silence for seconds, though it seemed like years. 

"Father, I have to go. Maybe you should think your campaign over. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to visit Mother. She's worried sick about your campaign, scared to death you'll be murdered by some mad Muggle. Thank you for your time." Draco stormed out the room, not knowing what to think of his father. He had always felt a strong bond to his father, but now the bond was breaking. He never thought that his father would actually run for vice-minister! True, he was a powerful man and all, but was he a real politician?

Draco wasn't entirely too sure. His father was very unpredictable. He was beginning to lose faith in his father, for the last few years, he had been doing bizarre and unpredictable things. 

Draco tried to take his mind off his father. After all, he had been governed by his father for seventeen years - he was nineteen now. He left Diagon Alley and stopped for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron. Tom had recently passed on, and the pub felt odd without the warm presence of Tom, serving drinks and helping people get through their lives. Or just chatting up a storm with his old friends. There was a skinny man behind the bar; he was clumsy and could barely serve drinks. More like he was too busy drinking them, especially the butterbeer. Draco couldn't stand Alex. He didn't know what it was - a personality clash or whatnot - and he didn't really want to know.

Alex was standing behind the bar, not drinking butterbeer. How ironic, Draco thought. Draco walked up to the counter; his eyes met Alex's.

"I'll just have a hot tea with lemon, if that's all right." Alex nodded. With a flip of his wand, steaming tea instantly appeared in a mug. Draco smiled. 

"Put it on Lucius Malfoy's tab." Draco sat down at a table, quietly sipping his tea. A man sat down at the other end. Draco didn't notice at first, but then he realized who it was.

"Severus!" The man smiled at Draco, something the Potions teacher never usually did. "What on Earth are you doing here?" 

"I've been visiting a few friends here in London and thought I'd drop by. Where's Tom?" Severus Snape replied. Draco sighed.

"He died a few months ago."

"Oh." There was a pause for a few seconds; neither knew what to say. Draco broke the silence.

"I'm sorry to cut our conversation short, Severus. I really need to go. My mother's having a heart attack over my father's latest announcement, if you know what I mean. You heard?" Severus shook his head. "Well, it'll be all over the news tomorrow. Goodbye." Draco left his tea on the table. Severus Snape sipped his wine. Draco had certainly changed over the years; he was no longer the boy he used to be. 

Draco Malfoy walked out of the Leaky Cauldron, unknown to Muggles. He walked down the street, heading to his car. He was now living with Muggles, on an undercover mission for the Ministry. There were operatives all over the world, judging Muggles, trying to decide whether or not they were ready to learn the truth about wizards. His father believed he was living with Muggles so he could kill them. Lucius Malfoy did not know the real truth behind this. He would banish Draco from the family forever, but it looked like Draco was in the process of that happening to him.

It wasn't the truth though. Draco enjoyed the assignment; he wanted to learn more about his non-magical companions. He had (secretly) done research in the Hogwarts library, learning more about Muggles, but from a wizard's point of view. He wanted to learn about them from a Muggle point of view. 

Draco could remember four years ago: his summer vacation. He was in Dover, eating at a restaurant. He had choked on his hamburger; and his father panicked, not knowing what to do. A Muggle - totally unknown to Lucius - performed the Heimlich Maneuver on him, saving his life. Draco was shocked beyond belief, but his father had even more hatred for Muggles. "Never let a Mudblood lay hands on you," he had said. He and his father had drifted farther apart ever since.

* * *

Zeus MacArthur sat in his campaign headquarters in New Orleans: a hidden office building. It was in the French Quarter, next to the Aquarium of the Americas. Muggles could not see it. It was an exotic place, a place where he had a lovely aquarium to view, though he wasn't sure about the Mississippi River that he got to see almost every day when he took a stroll down to the aquarium. It was a dirty place, filled with dirt, boats, and altogether awful sights that he couldn't bear. 

But enough about that, Zeus thought. He hated thinking about the "exotic" Mississippi River. Why was his headquarters even in New Orleans? He wasn't too sure, but he felt it was a nice place. No, he was denying it. It was a nice place; but it was not right, not a wizard's town. But we do have that showboat, he thought. Very fancy place for making big announcements... 

The idiotic man kept thinking nonsensical thoughts. He was not a very smart man, just good-looking. He could flash a smile of pearly white teeth that would blind a bat. But he was just a shell; there was nothing on the inside. I have to change that, Zeus thought.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in." 

"Hello, Zeus," his assistant, Jack Darby, said, letting himself in. "The latest poll results are in. Most people are against new taxes that would protect Muggles." Zeus thought for a moment. What was his stand on this? 

"But we're for protecting Muggles... I think..." the dim-witted man said. He shook his head. "Isn't Cornelius Fudge running that top secret program of spies?" Cornelius was a member of the Liberation Party; he was serving his final term as Minister of Magic.

"Yeah, but the Ministry is thinking of stopping it. The taxes are going to waste," Jack said. 

"Wait, wait. I may have been a newspaper columnist, but I don't understand what's going on!" Zeus leaped from his chair, so high he hit the ceiling. "OUCH!"

"Sir, I have absolutely no idea how you were a political analyst. You know absolutely nothing about politics! I feel like we're pulling a scam!" Jack said, raising his voice. 

"We are," Zeus said calmly. "We're pulling the biggest scam since Julius conned the British government into giving him support to fight the Great War." Jack remembered the history lesson perfectly well, but he really didn't understand. It also didn't matter. Zeus was the perfect candidate in the voters' eyes. But in reality he was a fraud, and everyone in the Liberation Party knew it. He was a dumb man, an idiot, and a man who watched WWF - though he never admitted it in public - the thought of watching the Muggle television was enough to get him to lost the support of his own party, which was not happening the public eye.

"Sir, I have to go. Gotta start planning out the campaign banquet that's happening in Berlin next month," Jack said, getting up from his chair. Zeus got up, too. It was the first chance all day Jack had see what the candidate was wearing today. Jack himself was wearing a Muggle polo shirt and Muggle khaki pants - he had been apparating all over the world today, and he didn't want to be seen by Muggles in his cloak. Zeus was wearing an elegant dark black cloak, part of the famous Wizard Wear clothing line. It was what both candidates were wearing these days.

"Why are you getting up, Zeus?" Jack asked. 

"I'm going to take a stretch through the offices. And maybe educate myself. A campaign is easier when you educate yourself," Zeus said. Jack silently agreed.

* * *

Jack Darby apparated into Berlin moments later. He walked down the street towards The Third Meal, a newly-opened fancy restaurant for wizards only. It was hidden from Muggles' hungry eyes, like many things were. Jack was still dressed in Muggle clothes, but he carried a briefcase with him now as well. He disappeared into the restaurant's covered outdoor walkway and pulled on his cloak.

"Mister Darby, I presume?" said a stranger looking at Jack. The man smiled a smile of crooked teeth. Jack gulped. He didn't like men like these. 

"How did you know?" Jack asked. But did he want to find out the answer? 

"You are supposed to come in today, and you have a pretty patch for Zeus's campaign," the man said.

"Who are you?"

"Job Young; I own this place. Follow me please." The man led Jack inside, into the lavish restaurant. It was a fancy place, full of rich people (the best people to invite to Zeus's banquet) and more importantly, exotic dinners. Nice place, Jack thought, thinking the obvious. But it would make Zeus look good. And Zeus needed to look good. That was all he could do.

"Mister Young, do you get a lot of business? Not that many magic folks live in Berlin." Job laughed.

"More than you think! But really, we make fairly decent money. I won't tell you how much, but so far we've made a killing. And it's not like travel time matters! After all, didn't you apparate over here?" Job laughed, and Jack joined in, too.

"Well, the place looks nice. We're booked for February seventeenth, aren't we?"

"Yes, Jack. You are. You can have your little cockamamie banquet here."

"Excuse me? Cockamamie?!" Jack's eyes narrowed at Job. Job didn't care on bit.

"You heard me correct. I'm not a member of either party. I'm really not for either candidate." Jack was shocked.

"Really?"

"Yes. Zeus is an idiot, and Merlin is prejudiced." Jack couldn't agree more.

"So what party do you belong to?"

"The People's Party. Third party - we haven't got a candidate yet, but we'll get an awesome one. Trust me." 

Jack apparated away into New Orleans after taking off his cloak. There was nothing else on his agenda today, so he figured he would go to the aquarium again. Maybe he could muster the courage to put a shark. Yeah right.

* * *

Merlin O'Brien sat in Liberation Party Headquarters, a small barn in the English countryside. It was almost entirely underground. Merlin's office was underground, littered with booklets, speeches, letters, and other stuff. It had been two weeks since he had made his great announcement and was really gaining support from around. Even his spies at Zeus's headquarters were confirming to him what he had known all along - Zeus was a fraud. 

Of course Zeus could easily educate himself; he knew the ups and downs of politics, something Merlin didn't. But Merlin was easily more stubborn and was a real candidate; his thoughts on the issues were his real thoughts. He had a new stack of letters today, including a few from New Orleans. His spies were littered throughout the town, discovering secrets for his campaign. The first letter he blindly pulled was from Lisa Walken, an intern for Merlin.

**Dear Mister O'Brien,**

**Hello! It's been a long time since I saw you! But we're fine here. The campaign is in full swing, and they're still trying to work out some way to work their way around Zeus's stupidity. Zeus is reading constantly and educating himself on every issue. The man may have been a fraud before, but he's really getting smarter and smarter. It's a good thing you've pulled ahead in the polls. Otherwise, you wouldn't have a chance at the rate he's going.**

**Good luck,**

**Lisa Walken**

So the man is getting smarter, thought Merlin. I'm going to have to start talking the issues. Perhaps a debate... 

"Homer!" the candidate called. "Homer? Lucius?" Lucius Malfoy stepped into the room, followed by Homer Lyte. Homer was a skinny, wiry man that was an excellent public speaker, the perfect campaign manager/publicist/spokesperson/closest advisor.. Homer was British; he was the ideal Brit. He liked tea, crumpets, and cucumber sandwiches. 

"Merlin, before you say anything, maybe you should learn about a project the Ministry is having," Lucius Malfoy said. "Our contact at the Ministry has informed me that the Minister has formed a top secret division filled with spies. They are watching Muggles, living with them. They want to see if Muggles are ready to learn the truth about us."

"Something we are thoroughly against," Homer added. Merlin smiled.

"Boys, I received a few letters from New Orleans today. Zeus is a fraud. You heard me correctly: a fraud. He is brushing up on everything now, but his opinions were never actually his opinions. Perhaps we should start mud-slinging?" Zeus asked.

"No, not yet. You can't make phony claims until they're proven to the public. Why don't you challenge him to a debate?" Homer asked.

"Just what I was thinking. Send an owl to the Voter's Union. Tell them to schedule a debate between me and Zeus. Contact our moles at Merlin's office and get them to do the same. This should be interesting..."

* * *

Duke Dingo sat down on his large leather couch. It was brown, a color the Aussie liked. He breathed deeply, pulling the remote control from under his seat. He flipped on the television, watching an action movie he was particularly fond of.

"I'll be back," the Terminator said. That was his favorite part, and he knew the movie by heart. He hated Australian flicks; they were always so awful. The view outside his window was ironically full of rain; it had just rained in the Outback. 

How he missed the old days, walking through forbidden halls in Hogwarts. It had been the best times of his life, and now he was stuck in the middle of nowhere, programming Muggle websites for a living. He did everything exclusively on the web; he usually never met his Muggle clients in person. He had basically given up on the magic world. He liked it and had taken great interest in the race between Zeus and Merlin. Not that he liked either candidates much anyway. He checked his watch. 3:30 P.M., January 15th, 2000. The loneliness was killing him. But he couldn't take a walk! It was pouring down rain, almost flooded.

Duke sighed! It was as if no one knew who he was! He knew the locals in a town he lived near, but they were the only people he thought knew him.

"Knock, knock!" went the door. Who would want to come to this house in the middle of a rainstorm? Duke thought. He opened the door and nearly fainted. The man at the door was wearing a cloak!

"Oh my God!" Duke screamed, shocked. The man was a wizard! "I'm sorry, really. Come in. Please. It's been a long time since I've seen any wizards." The man came in. Duke couldn't recognize them. 

"You are Duke Dingo, aren't you?" the man asked. Duke was shocked, though there really wasn't anything to be surprised about. He was amazed people even knew he existed!

"Yes, what do you need?"

"Duke, I represent the Peoples' Party. 'People, not politics' is our slogan. I've been sent on a mission to find Duke Dingo, the legendary political mind." This time Duke did faint, only to be woken up by hitting the floor.

"I did lead a student activist group against You-Know-Who; and I did help some people try and run for Minister, so yes. I guess I am." Duke was amazed. 

"Would you like to run for Minister of Magic?" Duke's jaw fell, and gravity was not the reason.

"I'd be honored. Why me?" The man laughed.

"You're Duke Dingo! You have an odd name, you have strong political stands - we've read your letters -, and you are just the perfect man."

"But an Australian's never been Minister before! And with the Muggle Informing of 1998 in Sydney, how could pull it off?"

"We are for people. Not politics."

"You people are idiots in the public's eye! I remember when you had that guy running for Minister a few years ago - he was so stupid!"

"That's why we want you." This time nothing would wake Duke when he fainted.

_Authors Note: Actually I do not believe this is how wizards choose Minister of Magic. I do believe he is appointed. But who cares - let's have some fun! Special thanks to Ninamazing - you really helped! As for the future of Election, I am working at a rapid pace, so look out! It will be like one of those old Republic serials!_


	2. The Debate

Election Chapter 2:

The Debate

* * *

Heather Hera sat at her desk at the Voters' Union. She was one of the few that actually worked for the group - most were volunteers. She was looking at the letters that had arrived, mostly articles for their magazine, _Politics: Inside, Out, and Around._

Stupid name, she thought. But the Voters' Union liked it, and that was what mattered.

There was one truly important letter, from Homer Lyte. It was in a brown envelope, marked with the Pureblood Party seal.

To Whomever It May Concern:

I am Homer Lyte, campaign manager for Merlin and Lucius Malfoy. We wish to challenge Merlin O'Brien to a debate. The Voters' Union holds most debates, and we figured it would be wise to seek you out. We believe Merlin to be a deluded man who does not know how to do his job. (You may quote us on that!) He is the worst choice for Minister of Magic. Your magazine is the best magazine published by anyone for the average voter. We wish for this debate, and I'm sure the people at Zeus's wish for it themselves.

Sincerely,

Homer Lyte

****

Homer Lyte

Rather interesting, Heather thought. Politicians did not usually request debates. They always had something to hide.

* * *

It was a beautiful sunny day in Sydney, Peoples' Party headquarters. They were hidden from roaming Muggle eyes as well, but they were about to make the announcement that would change the world.

"And thus, on January 31st, 2000, I announce the candidate for Minister of Magic for the Peoples' Party, as well as his running mate, Duke Dingo and William Henry!" William and Henry walked onto the stage, greeted by the twenty people in the crowd. No wizard photographs were taken, no one could really care.

"Hello," Duke said to the crowd, "my name is Duke Dingo. I may not be known to you. But let me tell you about me.

"I grew up near Sydney, in the village of Asthenia. I lived a secluded life, full of secrets, and love for Muggles - we were forced to mingle with them every once in a while.

"I headed Students Against You-Know-Who for three years in my attendance at Hogwarts. I was a Prefect. I have - since my graduation from Hogwarts - lived with Muggles. They are wondrous people; I have worked for Muggles designing what they call websites on the Internet. It is their information stream.

"The Peoples' Party chose me because I have a brilliant political mind; they tested me. I am not bragging at all; that's what they said. And now, we challenge the two main political parties to a debate. We have sent our letters off to the Voters' Union.

"And now, I will introduce my running mate, William Henry! He is a writer for _The Daily Prophet_ and was one of the people that tracked me down. He writes many political editorials and was a key in solving the Muggle Informing of 1998. William is a great man; it is my pleasure to have him as my running mate!" The small crowd cheered.

"That's all I have to say for today. Hopefully, we will be able to participate in that debate! Thank you!" Duke Dingo was once again still treated with applause. William Henry raised his fist triumphantly.

"People, not politics," he yelled, citing the Peoples' Party's campaign slogan. The crowd responded with the same.

* * *

"Who the heck is this idiot running for Minister?" exclaimed Merlin to no one over his lunch with Lucius and Homer the day after. Homer stared at Merlin.

"Who?" Homer asked.

"I was looking at that this morning. The guy's name is Duke Dingo; he's running for the Peoples' Party with William Henry," Lucius said, filling in the facts between mouthfuls of turkey.

"William Henry? The writer guy?" Homer asked.

"Yeah, him," Merlin said. He'd known William since they met in an interview. William was a very political man, and he had no doubt Duke was very political.

"When's the debate?" Lucius asked. Homer sighed.

"The seventh. The Voters' League received word from Dingo and company. They want to participate," responded Homer.

"Really... Are they going to?" Merlin asked.

"Yes, they are. I figure this is the chance you have to expose any of Zeus's weaknesses and Dingo's. We'll start drilling you; but we've practiced so much, I don't think it would matter. But we need to dig dirt on that Dingo man; he could have some kind of troubled past," said Homer, always the strategist.

"Students Against You-Know-Who headquarters would be a nice place to start. Get an assistant over there and fast. William Henry wrote an editorial for _The Daily Prophet_ today. It's all about the campaign. Look at it," Lucius said quickly, handing Homer the paper.

"What an idiot! The man doesn't know what he's talking about!" Homer yelled, half-laughing. Lucius and Merlin joined in as well, and the old men laughed at (in their opinion) the rather pathetic article.

"Okay, that's enough," Merlin yelled, out of breath. The men were having a fun time, though that could be contributed to the large bottles of whiskey each had.

"Yeah, whatever," Lucius said before falling asleep on the table. This was the first time he had gotten drunk in a while, more like ever. Though he had never admitted it, he had never liked drinking.

And that very moment, Draco Malfoy entered the barn. He heard utter silence - odd for noontime. He ran into the kitchen of the barn and saw the three drunk men fast asleep like babies. There was broken glass on the floor.

"Drunk. What a group of politicians! Father, wake up!" Draco carefully watched his step as he walked up to his father and began shaking him.

"Huh? Who? Harry?" his father said, confused. Draco sighed. It was no use. He was once again a victim of bad timing, as always, it seemed. He was going to try to get closer to his father, but the elder had only gone off to tried to get elected to a high position in the Ministry!

Draco left the room. The men were still asleep, and he was sure they would be for the next few hours.

* * *

Zeus MacArthur sat at his desk, reading a book. He knew all about the issues, somewhat miraculously. Just a few days before, he had been an idiot, working his butt off as a fraud. But now he felt confident. He could chat up a storm about sickles or the potential monopolies of Merlin O'Brien.

"People don't like Muggles. That's the current trend," he said aloud to no one. He had once been a political analyst, though everything he had said was never written by him; he was just a cover figure. "Wonder if they like Gilderoy Lockhart anymore?" he asked again, laughing. The fraud, who had been exposed by Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, had disappeared from their world for the last few years; but who knew what the lunatic was doing at the moment.

It didn't matter, anyway. The man was long gone and forgotten. The greatest liar on Earth, Zeus thought. After me, of course.

It was a beautiful day in New Orleans, and Zeus did not feel like being cooped up inside his office. Jack Darby was out sick: too much apparating. Zeus set down his book and headed off to the party's secret dock. They had bought a casino boat and changed it up to be a touring campaign boat. It was something Zeus liked and proved to be a hallmark of their campaign.

But people were criticizing him for not having chosen a running mate yet. He knew he would have to before the race really began to heat up - it was getting closer to the December 22nd election. And the debate in London was looming as well. Of course, it would be hidden from Muggles and completely covered by all major wizard magazines and newspapers. He would have to be ready.

He walked onto the boat, greeted by his campaign workers. They had enchanted the boat to run without any power whatsoever and to go wherever they wanted it to go. It worked quite well and proved to take off the burden of actually navigating their way through the seas.

"Hey, when's the next campaign rally," Zeus asked to one of the men on the boat. The man pulled out a calendar from his official Zeus MacArthur campaign cloak pocket.

"Uh, tomorrow. In London. You'll be staying there for the next week," the tall man responded. Zeus nodded.

"Am I staying on the boat, or will I be staying at a rather nice hotel?" Zeus asked, almost laughing. The other man laughed as well.

"You know the answer, don't you?"

"Yes, the boat." Zeus abruptly stopped laughing, as did the campaign worker. He moved on, past the worker, heading to the roof. The river was brown, polluted with stuff Zeus certainly didn't want to drink.

"I wonder what Duke Dingo is doing right now," he said to no one. Unknown to him, Duke was thinking the same thing.

* * *

Duke Dingo sat in his new office chair, asleep. He had been having a dream about Harry Potter. He'd be a good spokesman, Duke thought. But he was too tired to think about anything. He had been wondering what Zeus was doing, but he dropped it after realizing that he needed to hire Potter.

Duke walked to the bathroom and splashed water on his face, waking him up. It had been a long two days. The debate was the seventh; it was the second. He had been receiving bad press lately - perhaps it was his pro-Muggle stance. Or the fact that he had almost appeared out of nowhere to try and grab the highest spot in the Ministry. Or maybe it was the fact that everyone in the press were jerks that had no clue what they were doing. Duke chose the latter of the three.

There was a knock at the door.

"Duke, it's William." With a flick of his wand, Duke opened the door. It opened to William Henry, a man with red hair and thick glasses - he was a distant relative of the Weasleys.

"Hi. Does the press still think we're jerks?" Duke leaned back in his chair while William sat down. William shook his head.

"It's only been a day. The opinions won't change till the debate."

"Well aware, my friend. Well aware."

"Um, the press are questioning your true experience. They say you don't have enough experience."

"Does Merlin?" The two laughed.

"Merlin is not a politician, but Zeus is. He's the man you have to worry about."

"But everyone is starting to hate Muggles now. Merlin will appeal to them," Duke said.

"Good point. Now, I hate to cut our conversation short; but we have a campaign to run. We've got publicists arranging interviews with magazines and newspapers. This is very tough stuff, Duke. You must take this seriously."

"I am! You people aren't letting me do anything!"

"Last time, our candidate totally ruined our campaign! And he was a beginner just like you!"

"Oh, shut up. Now, go run off and work on our campaign that is practically ignoring me!"

"We just want to keep your campaign running smoothly, so we can win this time!

"Fine, then. When do we leave for London? Or are we leaving Sunday night?"

"We are leaving Saturday evening. Just remember everything we've gone over, and you'll be able to prove yourself."

* * *

It was a beautiful Saturday morning in London. Merlin O'Brien made his way out of the Gringott's fireplace. He surveyed the interior of the building, which he almost owned.

"Mister O'Brien, we welcome you to your humble bank," a goblin said. Merlin smiled at the goblin - he loved the goblins.

"I'm not here to survey Gringott's. It's looking like it's in pristine order, though. I'm here for the debate. I haven't got much time, campaign rally. Zeus," the goblin snickered at the name, "and I both have competing campaign rallies today."

The goblin stepped out of the way as Merlin's candidates arrived after him. They all said hi to the kind goblin before making their way out to the Leaky Cauldron. Their campaign rally would once again be on the steps of Gringott's - it was much easier to have their rally there.

People greeted them, wearing cloaks imprinted with the campaign symbol or Lucius and Zeus's smiling faces with the slogan "For a purer world." They were even given a free Firebolt Millennium Edition!

They made their way through the just-so-nice-it's-annoying crowd and into the Leaky Cauldron. Lucius Malfoy breathed a sigh of relief.

"If I have to go through that crowd one more time..." he said as Alex poured them some drinks. A small man walked up to them.

"Hello, I'm Colin Creevey," he said. "I work for _The Daily Prophet_, and I'm here to interview you." The young man carried a large notepad, a quill, and a camera.

"Buzz off," Lucius Malfoy said.

"Don't listen to him. He's in a very bad mood. The crowd, you see," Homer said. Colin nodded.

"Well, let's get started. Mister Malfoy, how is your son treating this? It's been well known that you two haven't been getting along well over the past few years," Colin asked, repeating what he knew when he had attended Hogwarts.

"He's taking it quite well. I couldn't imagine him being any happier," Lucius responded. Colin nodded at the candidate, looking suspicious.

"Now, Mister O'Brien-"

"Merlin, please."

"Merlin, do you believe the Pureblood Party actually has a chance?" Merlin smiled.

"We have a big chance. With the past anti-magic events occurring within the Muggle world, we believe these evil forces must be stopped," Merlin responded in a smart manner.

"We were only aware of the Muggle Informing of 1998."

"Well, many Muggles have actually discovered the truth. They post pictures and descriptions of us on their Internet. We discovered these and have also found that Duke Dingo is involved with this Internet of Muggles," Merlin said. His croonies had done him well.

"Well, you certainly have done your research, and we know your opinion on Mister Dingo," Colin said. "What is your opinion on Zeus MacArthur?"

"He's a jerk, a fraud. He knows nothing. You think he actually wrote his articles!? No, he was just a cover to get people to read them. He's a fraud. I want to see how they do at the debate." And then Merlin added with a grin, "If they even show up at all."

"Interesting. Now let me ask you a few more questions..." Colin, Lucius, and Merlin carried on their conversation, as Colin's magical quill jotted down questions and answers.

At the end, Colin took a photograph of Merlin and Lucius flashing their award-winning smile. It was a great publicity picture. Or at least that was what Homer called it.

* * *

It was a beautiful Sunday evening in London. The sun was setting, leaving London in an orange. The view looked beautiful from inside the slightly stained windows of the Voters' League auditorium.

Zeus, Merlin, and Duke all sat on stools behind large, rectangular podiums with their campaign's logo on them. Zeus MacArthur took a deep breath as the voice of Heather Hera filled the room.

"...to the first debate of this campaign year. Today we welcome Zeus MacArthur of the Liberation Party, Merlin O'Brien of the Pureblood Party, and Duke Dingo of the Peoples' Party. Let's have a nice round of applause for the three candidates!"

There was a loud round of applause as each candidate was introduced by Miss Hera. Zeus was once again wearing Wizard Wear, as were the other candidates.

"This first question is for all the candidates. Do you believe in the proposed sale tax of six knuts? Zeus, you first please."

"Well, Heather, I believe the tax _is_ necessary if we want to fund ourselves for any type of fighting and to better fund our schools that are lesser fortunate than Hogwarts. Not to mention that we can better fund our government and make our world more modern," Zeus said. He couldn't believe what he had just said. That was definitely the wrong thing to say. Oh no, he thought.

The crowd began to boo as Zeus straightened out his face, filled with the knowledge of knowing he had just said what had not been wanted to say.

"Merlin?"

"Well, our future does depend on taxes; but the magic world has been getting along quite well with the current tax system we need. If we do go into a war - my team has done research - the Ministry has more than sufficient funding to fight," Merlin said. The crowd applauded.

"And Mister Dingo?"

"Our world is in constant fear of any Muggle activity destroying the world as we know it. We live like them, for crying out loud! But if it works for Muggles, it'll work for us. I say right now that I am for the sales tax. How big of an army would we have to raise? What if we have a civil war?" Duke said. The crowd didn't like his answer, but they all agreed it was well thought out. Duke had hit Merlin right on the head.

"Very good answer, Mister Dingo. Now Zeus - this is for you only - how do you respond to the allegations that you're a fraud?"

"I have no comment on these false allegations."

"Thank you. Mister O'Brien, people say you are too radical. How do you respond?" Merlin had been expecting this question.

"With every candidate comes new ideas. Perhaps that candidate believes we're not run efficiently enough. Radicalism is just the bringing of new ideas. I admit it right now - I'm not like the past Ministers. My ideas are not radical; they are just different," Merlin said. He received much applause from his newly-found supporters. Just what he had expected.

"Okay. Duke Dingo, the world does not believe you are qualified, though your track record shows that you have been politically active. How do respond to the allegations?"

"I ask this question to the world: what do you think of Merlin? He's a businessman, for crying out loud! I'm a political man - according to the Peoples' Party, I'm the best man for the job. Understand?" The crowd cheered. Duke clenched his fists and did one-two punch, his new trademark. The crowd cheered again.

And the debate went on, with each candidate asked about their positions on issues. Zeus stumbled even more, while Duke stole the show, giving people his well-rehearsed answers and turning it into a contest between him and Merlin. And then came the last question...

"This is for all of you now. What is your position on the growing hatred between wizards and Muggles?" Zeus, Merlin, and Duke all inhaled deeply. "Mister Dingo, please start."

"Muggles are better than we think. We have constructed a world in which we live separated from each other, though a few Muggles are aware of our existence. We live in solitude. Doesn't it annoy you? The fact that we totally ignore them - though we sometimes see them on the streets. It's prejudice. And isn't that wrong?" Duke did his now trademarked one-two punch as his newly-found fans applauded him. His strong moral stances and especially strong answers were really helping him.

"Thank you, Mister Dingo. Zeus?"

"Well, Muggles hate us, as we are aware. And, uh, we must hate them back. They may attack any moment!" The crowd booed as the man hung his head in shame. His campaign was going nowhere.

"Merlin?"

"Thank you, Heather. Now, Mudbloods are revealing their knowledge of us, posting moving pictures - videos as they call it - on their Internet, still pictures, and descriptions of us, where to find us, things like that. And they mention killing us for all time. They have the power - we know it. So do they. Let's save ourselves and kill them now, shall we?" Merlin smiled. This had gone better than he thought it would have.

"Thank you for watching today's debate. We hoped you learned a lot about the candidates and their issues. Good luck to all and ride home safely!"

* * *

A day later, Merlin, Homer, and Lucius each stared at the front cover at _The Daily Prophet_, shocked beyond belief.

"DUKE DINGO GAINS SUPPORT AFTER WINNING THE DEBATE!" the headline said.

_Author's Note: Hey, thanks for all the support! I really didn't get anyone's help on his, but thanks to Katie Bell for her encouraging words of support on Chapter 1! And of course, Ninamazing. I simply forgot about that - I have had way too much band this week. Practice all day. You have never been in band until you've been in our honor band. I hope you're impressed - I've been working sorta hard to get the massive ideas I had onto the screen. Even if I get writer's block, I still know what I'm doing, so don't worry! The pen is mightier than the wand. (Yeah, funny, Rex.) But thanks! And PLEASE REVIEW! _


	3. Of Rallies and Banquets

Election Chapter 3:

Of Rallies and Banquets

* * *

"That's just not right," Homer said. "You had all the right answers, the right stuff, what the people wanted." Merlin could still see Duke's one-two punch.

"You're right. But he's new, and he's a novelty. He's fresh from Australia and appeals to everyone that hasn't made their mind up yet. We've got to combat him in some way, shape, or form," Merlin said.

"What do you mean? He's like super-human. Everyone loves him," said Lucius.

"He's right. Do we have any moles at his campaign headquarters?" Homer asked.

"Not that I'm aware of. We never anticipated this. Perhaps we could find people at his office instead of trying to get some moles hired..." Merlin said.

* * *

Zeus sat in his desk three days after the horrible debate. He had left almost immediately after, refusing to answer anything from the press. What had happened? He knew what to say - he had rehearsed it over and over. Oh God, he thought. Why? Oh, why?

He certainly didn't know why. His face had flushed completely white, still shocked from his pathetic performance. No need to think about that. He had more things to worry about - like winning his voters back. All the pro-Muggle voters had gone to Duke, and the anti-Muggle voters had found comfort in Merlin. He stared across the desk, noticing Jack Darby for the first time in a few days.

The campaign manager was still pale. He had just come back from London.

"Jack, what in Julius's name happened?" Zeus asked.

"Zeus, you flopped at the debate," Jack said, basically spelling it out.

"True."

"Your only hope is the banquet, scheduled for the seventeenth. It's in Berlin; I made sure that we were taking the boat and not apparating." Zeus smiled. Darby had gotten sick from all the apparating he had done.

"You're right. Dingo certainly put on a show, eh?" Zeus said.

"Yes, he did. But let's not worry. He's a novelty. It'll wear off."

"Where'd you hear that?"

"Around London. All the people were talking about Duke, if you know what I mean. This is going to be a tough race for you. I don't know if we can win," Jack said.

"We can win. We've just got to appeal once more, show I'm not stupid."

"Good point. I'll see what I can do. Remember, you've got a campaign rally in Paris in a few days. So, I'm going to leave you now; but you may want to start rethinking your strategy," Jack said, getting up from his chair and leaving. He left Zeus alone to think by himself.

Jack walked out of Zeus's office, heading for the staircase. It was a large, winding spiral - like the ones you saw in old Creole houses in old New Orleans. He really loved the city, no matter what he thought of Muggles. And he didn't think too highly for him - except for the lustrous architectural genius they had. The Creoles, the French, the Spanish, you could see all the styles blend in the Big Easy.

Not that wizards had that talent, though. He had noticed the architecture was still medieval in style, not something he liked.

But on he went down the spiraling staircase. He had work to do. Lots of work....

* * *

Duke Dingo danced around his room in his Outback house. He had only recently returned to his house, which he had not been in for some time.

"I did it!" he yelled, jumping up and down like a madman. He may have been famous, but he certainly was very human. William Henry was watching him - he could tell.

"Okay, Duke. Now, I want to check out this Internet," he said.

"Cool. Come here, I'll show you," Duke said, leading William down into his air-conditioned basement.

"This is a computer," Duke said. "Muggles use it to exchange information, write things, play games, read, et cetera."

"Really? And what did you do?" William asked. "I don't exactly understand," he added.

"I design Muggle websites. Nothing about us, of course," Duke said with a grin.

"About what, then?" Duke logged onto the Internet, while William found the dialing very annoying. "What the heck is that?"

"You've got to dial in. It's on a thing called a phone line. You get used to it." Duke looked up at William, who had pulled up a chair alongside him.

"Oh, really... Show me more..."

* * *

Ah, Paris, Zeus thought. It was beautiful. His boat was in a river, a beautiful river at that. He stood on a back deck, his arms spread in the breeze.

And Jack Darby was on the edge, vomiting.

"Jack, that is very disgusting. Now, just enjoy the water," Zeus said.

"I can't enjoy much of anything right now," Jack said before once again losing his cookies to the water.

"Goodness, it's very gruesome. Do you mind not disgusting me?"

"I don't mind at all. But my stomach does. Excuse me." Jack threw up once more before leaving for his cabin. Zeus could still smell the man's foul stench.

He left the deck, running up the stairs. He found himself in the kitchen, which was run by a strange old man named Han. Han was busy fixing something.

"Would you like some?" he asked.

"What is it?" Zeus asked.

"Boiled shrimp. Quite tasty." Zeus nodded, sitting down. Han handed him a plate with five pieces. Zeus tried one. Awful, he thought.

"Very, very good. A little advice: it's better if you fry it. 'Kay?" Han nodded. He hated it when people didn't like his food. He wasn't that dumb.

"Thank you. Now, go run along and get elected." Zeus left the kitchen. He ran down the wide hallway to another deck - this time on the other end of the boat. Jack Darby joined him once again, cleaned up and wearing fresh clothes. He kept silent as the two saw a magnificent view of the city. But they wouldn't actually get to go in - the rally was being held on the boat, in the main hall.

"Well, we certainly picked the perfect place for a campaign rally," Jack said. He looked up and down the river, illuminated by the bright sunlight.

"I do not hesitate to agree," Zeus replied.

"Do you have your running mate chosen yet?" Zeus nodded.

"He'll be coming to the banquet. Don't worry, Jack. Everything will be fine. I've got a plan. It'll all be announced at the banquet. Okay?" Jack inhaled deeply, followed by the obligatory exhale.

"Please don't tell me your running mate is Harry Potter," Jack said. Zeus laughed.

"Are you kidding? He's too young," Zeus said.

"I'll bet you Duke Dingo needs his support. Duke's going to lose a lot of support in the next few days," Jack said, supporting Zeus.

"You're lying. I'm not that dumb," Zeus said. Jack shook his head.

"I mean it. It's not that tough for a person to lose support in five seconds," he said. Zeus knew this - he had been a political columnist half his life. All it took was one wrong opinion, one wrong sentence, and then, rejection. He had seen it happen before, and it sure wasn't going to happen to him - though it certainly seemed that way. He was rolling down a hill.

"Don't worry, man. You've still got my vote," Jack said, putting his hand on the candidate's shoulder.

"Thanks."

* * *

"So Muggles know all about this?" William asked. Duke shook his head.

"Not all. These websites aren't viewed by many, but if word gets out..." Duke's voice trailed off. William scratched his chin, thinking. He had a job to do.

"Had you seen these before you started running" William asked. Duke chuckled.

"This stuff... Well, I've seen these before. I used to think this stuff wasn't true - the first sites at least. But now... They're being truthful," Duke said with a grave look. "Especially about killing us."

"Oh. Reminds me of Gilderoy Lockhart and the Muggle Informing," William said.

"Doesn't it?" Their conversation ended there as Duke opened up some sites he had saved in his favorites. He showed him the rest of the sites, skimming through them. William did not like the sites one bit.

"You mentioned to me you wanted to get in contact with Harry Potter. Do you still?" William asked. Duke smiled.

"Shall we?" Duke and William apparated into Peoples' Party headquarters. Almost immediately after they got there, they took some anti-apparation sickness pills. They were greeted by James Odysseus, their campaign manager.

"Hey, James," Duke said. "Get an owl off to Harry Potter ASAP." Duke did his one-two punch, and his staff cheered.

"Duke-" James said, before being cut off by Duke.

"Yeah?"

"He's here." Duke did his one-two punch. "In your office."

"Oh. Thanks." Duke and William walked to Duke's office. William took a seat next to Harry, as Duke took his seat behind his desk.

"Welcome, Mister Potter," Duke said, extending his hand across the desk. Harry shook it.

"Thank you. I'm glad to be here," Harry said. "The Peoples' Party represents honesty and good in this world. It's certainly moral."

"We did not know that you would have respect for Muggles, after living with the Dursleys and all," William said. "We're half-shocked you even came!"

"Well, I wanted to meet you," Harry said. "I've been keeping tabs on this race; it's really turning into pro-Muggle versus anti-Muggle."

"I know. Now it's become a question of ideals," Duke said.

"You're right. I have total respect for Muggles and Muggle-born wizards - one of my best friends is Muggle-born," Harry said. "Though Muggles can be bad."

"The Dursleys," William said, half-laughing.

"Exactly!" Harry joined in, laughing as well.

"So, Harry, did you just come here to meet us? We _do_ have a proposition for you," Duke said.

"What?" Harry asked.

"We need a spokesperson for the campaign. Would you like to be it?" Duke asked.

"I'd be honored!" Harry said. "I didn't think you would actually ask."

"Are you kidding? You're a celebrity!" Duke said.

"Please don't talk about that. Bad memories, bad memories," Harry said. Duke looked at him with a look of confusion. "Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Ah," Duke and William said in unison.

"Let's not mention him, please," Duke said. "I'm tired of all the Lockhart talk. He's old; he's gone."

"Sorry. But I'll gladly take the job! I said that, didn't I?" an enthused Harry said.

"Well, maybe... But thanks. You may want to stay over here for the next couple months - I can imagine how hard it would be to commute from London to Sydney," William said. He gave Harry a tight handshake, nearly taking out the blood vessels in Harry's hand, which was followed by a rather soft handshake from Duke.

Well, I just wanted to meet them, Harry thought. And now I'm involved with the race for Minister. I've got a bad feeling about this.

* * *

Merlin O'Brien was at a table at his own personal mansion. He sat in a chair made of animal skin, a rather elegant one. And the quill, oh the quill. It was large and lavish and purple. Merlin dipped it into some black ink, writing.

Dear Loyal Supporter:

Thank you for your loyal support.**I really appreciate your efforts as we work to clear up this Mudblood filth that many of our world believe in. Duke Dingo is of growing concern to our campaign. He is changing many minds on issues. Once again, I cannot thank you enough.**

With gratitude,

Merlin O'Brien

****

Merlin O'Brien,

Pureblood Party Candidate for Minister of Magic

* * *

He walked up from his chair, walking to his owl's cage.

"Here, Apollo," he told the owl, handing it the letter he had sealed in an official Pureblood Party envelope with the seal. Thunder roared from outside, as the man noticed the thunderstorm raging. Apollo could handle it.

"You know what to do."

* * *

Zeus MacArthur sat in the main hall of his boat. There was a very large crowd at his campaign, held in the Paris sunset. It was absolutely breathtaking. He could see the lovely city in the background.

But he couldn't focus on that. He had to concentrate on the task at hand, the rally. People were coming into the receiving hall, coming in from all over. Campaign rallies were easy to get to, especially if you could use magic to get from point a to point b.

Concentrate, Zeus told himself. Concentrate. You're not going to win if you don't concentrate. This is just step one in reigniting your campaign.

Jack Darby greeted Duke with a smile, only one weapon in Jack's publicity arsenal.

"Don't worry, Zeus. You've got this one," he said. "All you've got to do is focus. Focus on it all." Zeus nodded. Where had he heard that before?

"You're right. Shall we start?" Zeus asked. He straightened his robes.

"Not yet. Give me five more minutes." Jack left from his position beside Zeus, returning to greeting people that were entering the decorated room. It was filled with banners stating things like "ZEUS MACARTHUR: FOR A BETTER FUTURE" or "THE EXPERIENCED CANDIDATE" or even "BECAUSE CORNELIUS FUDGE SAID SO." Zeus laughed at the last one. The Liberation Party certainly had a way with endorsements.

People were dressed formally; they were dressed casually. Some just came in regular street clothes. The room was particularly quiet. Zeus took his seat on the small stage.

Meanwhile, Jack Darby was still greeting people, saying thank you to them. Not his favorite job, it was but certainly something he would have to do to keep his plans on track. People greeted him as well - in the kindest manners, he had to add. Zeus's supporters, though far and few between, were very nice and knew what they were doing, though Zeus wasn't too sure.

"Thank you for coming," he said for the umpteenth time to the umteenth person. It was getting annoying.

"And thank you, too," replied that umpteenth person. She made her way through the large crowd, trying to get to the front. She hoped to get a great view of Zeus.

"Excuse me!" Jack called, walking across the marked-off side. "The rally is about to begin!" The crowd cheered.

"Thank you!" Zeus exclaimed, stepping up to the podium. The crowd roared once more as Zeus tried to settle them down.

"Really, now. Really," he said. The crowd continued.

"Please be quiet," Jack said in his loudest but most pleasant voice. The crowd almost immediately silenced while Jack made his way up the stairway to the stage, taking a seat.

"First of all, before we start this, I'd like to thank Jack Darby, my campaign manager. Without him, I don't know if we could be doing this. Jack could you please stand?" Zeus acknowledged. Jack stood, waving to the crowd.

"I didn't do much, really. It's all Zeus," he said. The crowd laughed. Jack smiled, nodding at Zeus.

"Okay, now let's get this started!" Zeus yelled. The crowd cheered once more. Zeus calmed them down before continuing.

"Now, as you may be aware, I have been losing support throughout the world. But, according to you, I'm the best candidate. Am I right?" he asked.

"You suck!" yelled a person from the crowd over the roaring crowd. Zeus ignored him.

"And we must fight for a better future, to clear the filth! Boy, I sound like that stupid jerk Merlin O'Brien, don't I?" The crowd laughed.

"Anyway, I know this isn't really the big event; it's really just a filler for the banquet on the seventeenth. But average folk will unfortunately not be able to go. I'm not sure why; that's just what they told me. But I'm here to make a promise; I won't be saying too much today. Everything today will be some speeches and letters of encouragement read by Jack. I know this may be a disappointment for you all, but I do need to save my voice. I can't do it all!" The crowd - though disappointed - laughed a polite laugh once more. They felt ripped off. Poor excuse. But was he a poor candidate?

"Look, I really am sorry. Jack suggested it to me, and I hesitantly agreed. Hesitantly," Zeus said. The crowd laughed the polite laugh once more. "Now I will turn this show over to Jack. He and I will answer your questions after this! Thanks!" Zeus sat down in his chair, as Jack took the podium.

"Thank you, Zeus," he said. And thus their little "rally" began...

* * *

"Oh, Lucius. Zeus MacArthur, the man that could have. But then he didn't," Homer said. He and Lucius were meeting together in Homer's office to discuss what exactly Lucius was supposed to be doing. After all, he really didn't have that much of a job while they were running; but Lucius took an active part behind the scenes.

"So I say whatever he says and add my opinions to the issues he hasn't thought about?" Lucius said.

"Well, basically. Of course, you'll have much more to do _when_ you and Merlin are elected," Homer replied. He put lots of emphasis on the word "when."

"I know. I would run a few departments. I am not looking forward to the Department of Muggle Affairs and all those other Muggle departments. Not fun," Lucius said.

"Whoever said this would be fun!?" Homer asked.

"I don't know. And if Duke Dingo hadn't been introduced to the mix, we would have had this in the bag, no matter what people thought at the beginning," Lucius said, making a point. Homer chewed his dry quill.

"You're absolutely right. Now, I have made a few interviews for you. Would you like some tea?" Homer asked. Lucius shook his head.

"No, thanks," Lucius replied. "Who's interviewing me?"

"Colin Creevey," said Homer. "He's their guy in charge of covering the entire election. He's supposedly a very talented reporter."

"But he interviewed me already!" Lucius yelled. "Isn't once enough?"

"Creevey also asked you three questions. He wants to really interview you," Homer pointed out.

"No!" Lucius said. "I'm not going to waste my time with him. I want some new guys."

"Well, I'll tell Creevey. But, you've got an interview with _Wizard Weekly_ and some other magazines," Homer said.

"Oh, great. The women's magazine. You can't do better!?!" Lucius exclaimed. His face was red, about to explode.

"What's wrong with you? You don't like anything I've said! What's wrong?!" Homer demanded. He stared at Lucius with cold eyes.

"I'm sorry, really. I've had a very stressful day. With Draco having stopped talking to me, I think you can see what I mean..."

"Oh," Homer said.

* * *

Zeus MacArthur was dressed elegantly, in a dark purple. A man was standing next to him. He had once been the head of education at the Ministry. The man's name was Don Emilio.

"As I was saying Don, it's an honor to have you as my running mate. You're the smartest guy I know, not to mention you could care less about Muggles," Zeus said. "That's the stand we want to take. Not kill, not reach and help a Muggle. Just leave them alone."

"Are you sure?" Don asked.

"I hope so. But we've got two minutes before this begins." Zeus and Don walked to the large table in front of all the others. There was a slight murmur from the crowd.

"Welcome," Zeus said. "Welcome to this banquet. Before we begin eating, I would like to thank Jack Darby. He's not here today; he is a very sickly man. First apparation sickness, now seasickness, and once again he had apparation sickness. He had apparated here yesterday, only to find himself very, very sick. Trust me, you didn't want to see it. And I would also like to thank Job Young." Job stood up from the back and waved. "Now, dig in!"

The crowd ate a very lavish meal, filled with exotic shrimp and altogether great food. It cost more than a few sickles.

After they ate, Zeus rang his glass with a high-pitched sound.

"Now, many of you know that the man sitting next to me is Don Emilio, former head of the Department for Advancements in Education at the Ministry. And many of you suppose that he is here to make a speech. A few of you asked me. He's here as my running mate!" The crowd cheered. Zeus smiled. Everything was going as planned.

"And we are also here to announce a new campaign strategy."

* * *

A cloaked person listened from outside. That was the signal. He took the gift, wrapped as a present, and gave it to a man walking inside, obviously late.

"Give this to Zeus," the mysterious man said, walking away. The late man walked inside. There was no attention drawn to him. He shook the package. A high-pitched sound emitted from the package.

"Father, Son, Holy Spirit..." the man began, setting the package down. He was too far from the exit.

Seconds later, the Third Meal was no more.

_Author's Note: Hey, I'm evil! Yeah, ya'll probably hate me right now for leaving it at this cliff-hanger. But this is just the first twist in the plot. Thanks goes out to Nina, WeasleyTwinsFan, Katie Bell, Quaxo, and all you other guys who have reviewed! Thanks for all the positive comments! It means a lot to me. I turned this chapter out much more quickly, and I don't want to jump to December in the next chapter. Expect the next chapters to be slower but still with that mysterious feel. I am setting all this stuff up for the final chapters!_


	4. Remembrance

Election Chapter 4:

Remembrance

* * *

Two Muggles were walking down the Berlin sidewalk. They were conversing in German about anything really. They were about to talk about the strange weather Berlin was having before...

BOOM! The air exploded. That was the only way they could describe it. It began to burn, and the charm on the building failed. It appeared out of thin air as well.

"Fire!" one of them said in German. They run away, scared of whatever witchcraft was surrounding the mystical building as it drew a crowd.

They muttered things in German about witches, wizards, pagans, whatever they could think of that could be involved with a mysterious building appearing from literally nowhere.

"Excuse me!" said a man. He was dressed in black robes, as was his partner. His partner translated what the man said into German.

"Now, I want everyone to gather 'round me. Yes, gather around. What you think you just saw is the most ludicrous thing possible. Now, stare at the black stick. Yes, that's it..." he said. The people stared at him, after all, they couldn't see the wand.

"Okay, now. Just wait." The man muttered a few words in Latin incomprehensible to the crowd, and the crowd remembered nothing. While the crowd looked at their surroundings, he once again put an invisibility charm an the burning building.

"Who are you?" asked a man in German to the two mysterious men. The German-speaking one smiled.

"We're just a figment of your imaginations..."

And the two men left. Their work was done.

* * *

Jack Darby stood under the tent, as Zeus's funeral was being given. He had a solemn look on his face; he could not show his emotions. He had always hated funerals. The priest was saying a prayer as it seemed everyone else was crying their hearts out.

Emotion. What exactly was emotion? Jack thought long and hard. It was a philosophical question, and he certainly didn't want to make it look like he was bored. That would look terribly rude.

A woman cried. Jack recognized her as Zeus's sister, Angelina. Angelina had met Jack quite a while ago - a year perhaps. She was seven years older than Zeus, and she showed it with her white hair. Zeus had been forty-nine.

She walked up to Jack, her black veil nowhere near covering her saddened expressions. Jack opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"Jack," she said in between sobs, "I'm really sorry. I know how you must feel, being sick and all." Jack swallowed, letting tears come out.

"Thank you," he said. "Zeus meant a lot to me. But he loved you with all his heart."

"What's wrong?"

"I could have been there. I was sick, but I still could have been there. I could have died, too. I just feel so guilty," Jack said. Angelina gave Jack a handkerchief.

"Don't cry. Zeus would have wanted you to stay home resting," she said. Jack closed his eyes for a long time.

"Thank you so much," he said, handing Angelina the handkerchief. He could see the hills in the background. The English countryside looked so bright, so happy, on this solemn day. As if it wanted Zeus to do.

As soon as no one was looking, Jack took his shirt sleeve and wiped his tears off. His eyes narrowed. He looked altogether evil.

"I don't need this," he said. If anyone heard him, they'd have taken it the wrong way.

Jack stormed off, disappearing into thin air after taking some pills. He certainly didn't want to get sick.

* * *

"Ah, the candidate that could have," Homer said. "Shame he's dead."

"Haven't you said that before?" Merlin asked.

"I like saying it."

"I see. Anything else you'd like to tell me?" Merlin demanded. Homer told him little of the moles at the other campaign offices.

"Nothing! I swear!" Homer said. The dimly lit meeting room of the barn intimidated him. As did Merlin.

"Are you sure?" Merlin asked in a very suspicious way, as if he suspecting the man of something.

"YES! DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M SURE?" Homer exploded. Merlin narrowed his eyes.

"We are not to resort to killing in this campaign. Do you understand? We're cheating enough," he said. Homer smiled.

"You're entirely right. Now, if you'll just excuse me..." Homer began to walk out of the room, but he was stopped by Lucius Malfoy in the hallway.

"Hello, Homer. How are you doing today? Heard about Zeus?" he said with a slight comical voice.

"Yes, of course I did. I really have to go now - my mother is very sick."

"Really?" Merlin inquired. "I don't think you like us much."

"Well, I never anticipated the fact that you would think _I_ was responsible for Zeus MacArthur's death!" Homer said.

"So you did do it?" Merlin said slyly. Homer narrowed his eyes.

"I'm no murderer."

"Fine then, go see your mother," Lucius said, waving off Homer. As soon as Homer walked out the door, Lucius rolled his eyes.

"We'll have to keep on eye on him," Merlin said.

"I absolutely agree. What if he really is homicidal?" Lucius said.

"I doubt it. But this is Homer we're talking about."

"So, you and I both will keep an eye on him?"

"Yes, I guess so. And we must watch our backs. If Homer wasn't involved, someone could be out to kill all the other candidates. Though I'm not sure why they didn't choose Duke," Merlin said once more, throwing in his two sickles on the subject.

"Well, okay. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do. Lucius and Merlin left the dark room, heading for their offices.

* * *

"So my official job title is publicist?" a confused Harry Potter asked Duke. Duke nodded and smiled.

"What? Were you expecting something else?" Duke jokingly asked.

"Not really, Duke. But still, you must admit that being a publicist is something you don't hand to someone in three seconds."

"I believe it took us a day to hand it to you," Duke said, laughing. Harry joined in as well.

"I guess you're right. Now I'll make my way into my office, if you'll excuse me," Harry said, leaving.

Duke sighed. William Henry joined him from behind.

"Oh, hello, William. Didn't notice you there," Duke said. William was acting very strange lately. Why?

"Really? Well, anyway, as you may know, Zeus MacArthur is dead."

"He is?" Duke asked. "Sorry, I haven't read any news for the past few days. I've been taking a break from politics at my old home."

"Yes, I know. It's been very quiet around here."

* * *

It was very quiet at the old campaign headquarters. A solemn atmosphere.

"I know," said a man. "But should we replace him?"

"Yes. We need a candidate," said another. They were the heads of the Liberation Party.

"No. We must pay our respects by staying out of the race."

"That's stupid. We might as well go bankrupt."

"The man gave his life for politics. We must acknowledge that." Jack Darby couldn't help but overhear. He interrupted the two large men, walking up behind them and resting a hand on each's shoulder.

"We should do whatever we feel is in the big guy's best interest," he said. "Get what I mean?"

"No, not really," they both said - almost in unison.

Jack walked away. Stupid politicians.

* * *

Another memorial service. This one was not the _actual_ service, but rather, a service being held by the Liberation Party itself in Yorkshire.

"Hello?" said a confused man. Jack Darby sat in the back. He recognized the man as one of the very men that had been arguing over the future of the campaign at the old headquarters.

The woman sitting next to him - of whom he was unaware was related to Zeus - recognized the man as Quentin Kile. Jack could have cared less?

"Can you hear me way in the back? Or do I need to increase the power of the charm?" he screamed. Jack rolled his eyes at the bumbling man. He could imagine him and the other as a comic duo and was about to see that.

"You're fine!" the other head of the party yelled.

"Are you sure? I don't believe you!" yelled Quentin to the other man - the woman recognized him as Thomas White.

"Yes, I'm positive!" Thomas replied. Jack held his laughter, which required much effort.

"Huh?"

"Oh, shut up!"

The people in the auditorium turned, looking at Jack.

"What?"

"You shouldn't say that in the House of the Lord!" Quentin yelled to Jack. This was getting fairly annoying.

"Why? I say that all the time!" Jack replied. Jack was about to leave, but he held onto the pew in front of him.

"It's just not respectful!"

"Why?"

"Because God said so!" Quentin yelled, half-annoyed. Jack could only wonder if this was what happened whenever the two got together. He ran out of his pew and walked to the front, approaching Mister Kile.

"Quentin Kyle," said Quentin Kile, shaking Jack's hand after Jack introduced himself. "I can't believe I never met you before. You were Zeus's campaign manager."

"Please don't remind me-"

"Why?"

"I am terribly saddened."

"Oh, I see... Well, don't worry, we're still going to have this," Quentin said.

"How come I'm not speaking?" Jack asked. After all, wouldn't he speak at things like these?

"Well, you never asked. It's not something you just let anyone do," Quentin said. Jack had his doubts.

"Okay," Jack said. "Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mister Kile." Jack shook his hand once more and began to walk to his seat in the back.

"We're ready!" screamed White. Jack silently laughed as he sat himself down in the pew.

"Okay!" Quentin popped his wand out, and a podium magically appeared.

"Welcome," he said, "to the remembrance service for Zeus Hercules MacArthur, a true legend of journalism." A large screen appeared out of nowhere, and Zeus's picture appeared. It was very clear the Liberation Party was pulling no stops tonight.

"Zeus MacArthur grew up in a small English town. He was born October 3rd, 1944, in London. His father was a teacher; his mother was an accountant. Zeus's father educated him in classic literature and taught him how to write. He was an excellent student, excelling in math and reading. He then attended Hogwarts, becoming a member of the prestigious Gryffindor house.

"He received excellent marks in his subjects, becoming a Prefect, then Head Boy. Zeus then became employed by _The Daily Prophet_ as a columnist. He became actively involved in politics and became one of the most popular writers of the time. He published his first fictional book, a political satire, in 1967. It was awarded many awards, including the high Ministry Literary Excellence Award.

"Zeus became a co-editor of the paper in 1970 as well as a member of the Liberation Party and the Voters' Union. He remained a popular man, writing articles, books, and essays."

Jack yawned. This was going to be one of those he-was-a-great-leader-that-contributed-to-society tributes. He'd been to them before; he knew what they were for and how dumb they were.

After Quentin finished his biography of Zeus, emphasizing everything "good" in the fraud's life, a parade of "close" and "personal" friends of Zeus stated their written opinions of the man. God, Jack thought. This is stupid. But he couldn't just get up and leave now, could he?

"Now, as a special surprise, we shall have Jack Darby speak about Zeus," Quentin said. Jack's eyes opened wide - he was almost asleep. The crowd applauded as Jack made his way out of the pew to the podium.

"Thank you," he said. He didn't have a microphone to adjust, just making the moment a little bit more awkward.

"Zeus was a true friend. He employed me for - let me think - about a half a year. I helped him win the nomination; and now...now, he is truly gone." Jack began to break into tears, shocking himself.

"He was a great man, no matter how people thought of him. He was smart, organized, and always knew what he wanted to say. God, I don't know if I can do this..." Jack let out a cry, wiping his eye with his sleeve.

"I just want to say this before I can't say anything at all: he was a great man. A good man that deserved to be Minister. I wish I could say more..." Jack stepped back, taking out a handkerchief and blowing his nose.

"Thank you, Mister Darby. We can all relate," Quentin said. "That will conclude our ceremony. If you have anything to say to his relatives and close friends, you may do so after. Thank you for coming."

Jack sat in the front pew. People surrounded him, giving words of encouragement, trying to cheer him up. It wasn't working - at least in their eyes.

Was Jack doing this for real? Or was it for show? Was he in denial? Jack's mind immediately had a breakdown. He hid it from everyone else, but it was true. He really had like Zeus.

"Excuse me," he told one of the many people cheering him up, "but I must run. These are very hard to deal with."

"Oh, I understand, son. Now, if it will help, here's a tissue," the old woman began. She put on her glasses. The man was gone.

* * *

Duke Dingo woke up, got out of his bed, and got some water. He gulped it down. He sat down on the large sofa in the room, flipping on a lamp and beginning to read. This book is good, he thought.

But it was not half as comfortable as his actual bed. He yawned, running to his bed, and fell fast asleep.

* * *

It was a beautiful March morning. It was March 2nd. There was a morning dew, as was expected on a day like this. Merlin O'Brien went about his day, a lovely Thursday at that. He was taking today off, just to relax and get a hold of himself for once. Duke Dingo had done it. He could do it.

He sat down at his dinner table, took out his wand, and gave himself a nice large breakfast with eggs, sausage, bacon, pancakes, and a steak. Wait. What was the steak doing in his breakfast? He chuckled and zapped the steak to wherever zapped steaks went after they were zapped.

How he missed these days. His life had been fun then. It still was a little fun, but certainly not that much.

He thought about the steak. Was it rare? Medium rare? Well done? He certainly liked well done steaks. Hated the pink.

But was it really a steak? It could have been a pork chop for all he knew. Not that anyone cared - besides him, at least.

But enough with the steak, he thought, or pork chop. He wanted to relax, enjoy himself. Be human again.

He turned on a little music. Zeus was dead. He was alive. As was Duke Dingo. That was the one part he didn't like. There was something he could do about it...

No. He couldn't go there. That was evil, twisted. That was a last resort, which he certainly would never go to.

Merlin danced with an invisible partner around the floor. He laughed. This was something he enjoyed, just fooling around. He hadn't done it in a long time. He felt human again, not like a cardboard cut-out businessman or politician.

After his dancing session he ran outside, hopping on his Firebolt Millennium Edition and circling the large estate. It was a beautiful place, and he hadn't looked at the estate in so long - at least, not the way he was looking at it.

He flew high above the estate, taller than the tallest tree. The sun beat down on him, and he could have cared less. It was cold, though very nice, considering the breeze.

He made a sharp turn, heading over the gates of the estate. He flew over the British countryside, noting the small farms. He could see small Muggle villages and considered landing outside one.

Nah. He enjoyed the flying more than anything. And how it reminded him of his old Hogwarts days! Well, he hadn't exactly played Quidditch, but he was still reminded of them.

He flew back, leaning down, speeding up. The hills flew past. He looked behind himself and saw a brown speck. He assumed it was another broomstick rider.

It sped up. Merlin sped up as well. The speck caught up soon. It was an owl, most probably bred by an owl farm.

"Oh, hello," he said. There was a letter in its mouth. "Let me have that," Merlin said, yanking the letter out of its beak. It was addressed to him, naturally.

Dear Merlin,

Hello, Merlin. I need you to come to headquarters immediately. There is something important we must discuss.

-Lucius

Now what? The owl had disappeared - there was no time to reply.

* * *

A tired Merlin walked into the meeting room of the barn. He had immediately raced to the barn. He didn't like his vacation being interrupted.

"I know you're probably mad at me, Merlin; but something important has come to our attention. It seems Duke's past is not what it seems," Lucius Malfoy said with a sly grin. Merlin had fallen asleep.

"Wake up!" Lucius said, slapping him.

"What about Zeus?"

"No, Duke! Look, he's not what he seems!"

"Really?" Merlin inquired.

"Yes, really. Now let me show you..."

_Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed - including Nina and Quaxo! Oh yeah, please tell your friends and family about this story! :-) _


	5. Shadows

Election Chapter 5:

Shadows

* * *

Lucius Malfoy walked to the drawers in the back of the room, pulling out a large folder. He muttered something, opening the folder. Then he walked back to the table and set the folder on the table.

"Look here, my friend." Lucius took out a few photographs, some bank documents, and a letter.

"This is what our spy found," he said.

"What's their significance?" Merlin asked. He examined one of the photos. A young Duke Dingo was shaking a man's hand. Merlin couldn't believe who it was.

"I know what you're thinking," said Lucius. "You're right."

"Oh my God. This...this can't be."

"Yes, it can," said a smiling Lucius. A con man. The greatest con man in the world - if you could use that term - was shaking hands with a young Duke Dingo.

"I don't know if I can believe you. It seems just too weird, too unlike Duke's clean image for him to do that," Merlin said.

"Exactly! Wait till we get these images into the open!" Lucius's face turned bright, his eyes with anticipation and excitement.

"How did you get these? Because if you got them illegally, we'll be in serious trouble."

"It comes from a reliable source."

"How do you know they're reliable? They could have been reliable in the past, but they may be wrong this time!" Merlin was red hot with rage.

"I see your point," Lucius said with a calm voice. "But if these are real, we have stumbled on our way to victory."

"I see. Are you going to throw these pictures out into the open?" Merlin asked. Lucius merely smiled and opened his mouth to speak.

* * *

Two months had passed since that event, of which nothing had become of.

The bright sun shone high in the sky as a Firebolt Millennium Edition broomstick swooped down. Duke Dingo stood up in the stands and cheered for his favorite Quidditch player, Chuck Leon. Chuck was one of the few American Quidditch players, albeit one of the best players overall in the world. He was also one of the oldest players at forty-five years old. They were at a Quidditch Premier League game in Rome's Wizard District - the Berlin Bears, Chuck's team, were playing the defending champions, the Rome Gladiators. Chuck was a Beater, and he was also the captain of the Bears and the United States National Team. Chuck smiled, putting his hand through his gray hair, as a Bludger hit Rome's Seeker. The Seeker fell to the ground, and the game halted. Every ball in the air stopped instantaneously. Every person halted on their broom. Chuck lowered his head in shame. The crowd was silent.

"They're taking off Rome Seeker Howard Hunt, who has just been hit by a Bludger. He was hit in the back, but he should recover easily," said the announcer. Duke sat down in his seat, unlike most of the others, who were standing to see if Howard was okay. Chuck was on the ground, shaking Howard's hand, apologizing. Howard was lifted up magically and taken off. A new Seeker rose up on the field. She was young; her face was tense.

"Let the game continue!" exclaimed the announcer. The game instantly unfroze, and the excitement continued. The brooms zipped by Duke. For the first time, he realized a man was standing next to him.

The man had large brown eyes and stared at Duke with a look of fascination. He had a camera around his neck. Duke mentally rolled his eyes.

"Hello, Mister Dingo. Oh...my..." The man kept stuttering over his words. "I'm your...biggest...fan..." Duke was getting annoyed at this. Who was this man?

"May I inquire your name?" he asked, hoping to shake the man off.

"My name is Bob."

"Bob?" asked Duke to the man.

"Yes, Bob."

"Only Bob?"

"I cannot give my last name out to strangers." said the man.

"I'm not a stranger. I'm Duke Dingo!"

"Still...it's a pet peeve of mine."

"Okay..." It was the strangest thing Duke had ever heard: a grown man refusing to give his full name to one of the most famous men in the world.

"Can I have a picture, Duke? It's okay if I call-" Duke raised his hand up.

"It's perfectly fine if you call me Duke, Bob," Duke said. Bob asked a man sitting in the seat next to Duke if he would take his picture.

"Duke Dingo! I never noticed!" said the man. Duke wasn't surprised. He was wearing a cloak that hid his face. He was touring Rome, waiting for his campaign rally.

"You're the guy who fired Harry Potter!" the man yelled. Duke rolled his eyes - physically, this time. Duke could remember it like it was yesterday, though it was actually two weeks ago.

_Harry Potter scrambled to his office. He had been doing an awful job: screwing up press releases, releasing key information to the press, that sort of thing. The campaign was threatening to collapse._

"Mister Potter!" screamed William. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Being your publicist, Sir," responded a dumb-founded Harry Potter. "What else should I be doing?"

"Do you have any idea how many mistakes you've made in the last few days?" asked Duke, angry. He did not want to lose.

"Yes, Sir," Harry responded bravely.

"You're a victim of your own fame, Potter. I've seen it before, and now I'm seeing it again. Harry Potter, we thought...we thought..." William said, trying to think of the word.

"We thought you were the right man to do the job! You were unorganized, unprepared, and totally awful!" yelled Duke.

"How can I do it better then?" Harry asked, confused. He obviously wanted to do a good job, but he didn't have a clue how to do it. Duke knew this was a win or lose situation: fire Harry, and you may lose publicity, though you may be saving the campaign.

"Harry, I don't know if you understand," Duke said.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Harry, we're not going to keep you on the campaign. You're a great person and all, but you're not the right person for the job. It's the best for you and for us all," Duke said. Harry nodded.

"I think that you are a very stupid person, Duke. I thought you would give-"

"I don't care what you think, Mister Potter! You've screwed up this campaign left and right! I do_ remember that press release on my thoughts on Merlin O'Brien! Do you know how much publicity we lost on that? I don't want you to get smart with me or any of that junk - I want you to leave! Now!" Duke screamed. He could feel a burst of adrenaline as Harry Potter looked at him with tears in his eyes. "Don't expect me to give you a break because you're Harry Potter," he said gravely. Harry Potter turned red._

"What the devil do you want?" Harry demanded.

"I want you to leave!" Duke said. "Leave right now! Go screw up another campaign!"

"You suck," Harry Potter said, storming out the room. Duke Dingo could only smile.

"You didn't have to be so harsh, Duke," William said. Duke still kept his smile.

"I think I had to do it like that. He's obsessed with his fame so much he believes he'll remain famous forever. I don't care what he thinks about his over-inflated self, but I don't care for him anymore. I thought he was a good person who could do the job, but I guess celebrities aren't always the best for the job."

"I fired Harry Potter," Duke said. "You have a problem with that?

"He's Harry Potter! Harry Potter!" the man said. He was short and fat and annoying.

"Your point?" Duke asked.

"He's Harry Potter!"

"Yes, I know his name. What is your point?" Duke asked.

"Why the heck would somebody fire Harry Potter?" the man said.

"Tell me something, man. What is your name?" Duke asked.

"My name is Heath Coltrane. Why?" Duke smiled.

"Well, Heath, vote for me," he said. "I'm much better than Merlin O'Brien."

"I work for Merlin O'Brien, Sir," Robbie said.

"Really?" asked Bob.

"No, not really. I always wanted to say that," Robbie said. Duke smiled as politely as he could.

"I have always wanted to say that, too," he said. Robbie laughed.

"I don't believe you."

"You can believe what you want, Robbie. I _know_ that I am better than Merlin O'Brien - that Muggle-hating man," Duke said. Robbie smiled.

"Can I take my picture now?" Bob asked. Duke smiled. Robbie groaned.

"Of course," Duke said, pulling Bob to his side. "Smile."

"Say cheese," Robbie said, taking the picture.

"Cheese!" the two both said at once as the camera captured their images onto the film. Robbie handed the camera back to Bob.

"Have a good day," Robbie said. Duke was overall impressed by the level of cheesiness of Robbie's comment.

"Thank you," Bob said. "You too, Duke." Bob shook Duke's hand, and Duke smiled.

"And the game is over, thanks to an excellent catch by Berlin Seeker Quentin Fredricks!" the announcer yelled. Duke was mad now.

"You made me miss the game," he said to Bob. Bob's face tensed.

"I'm sorry, Duke, really."

"I figured someone would have seen me. I guess I shouldn't go to these. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go meet Chuck Leon," Duke said, making his way out of the stands to the field.

"Thank you, Mister Dingo!" Bob called out. Duke's eyes expanded. People knew his name.

And the public riot began.

* * *

"Hello, Merlin. How are you doing?" asked Colin Creevey. Merlin hesitated to answer. This was the big day.

"Just fine, thank you. I trust you're doing well?" Merlin asked, stirring up the small talk.

"It's great to talk to you, but I thought I would be interviewing Lucius," Colin said. Merlin smiled.

"Lucius is out sick. He's got the flu," Merlin said. Colin nearly laughed. Obviously Lucius didn't feel like giving an interview - wizards had a cure for the flu.

"He's allergic to the cure," Merlin said, clearing it up. Colin's face turned deadly serious once more. Merlin twisted his neck.

"Well, then," Colin said, "do you have anything to say before the interview?"

"Yes," Merlin said, pulling out a folder from his briefcase. Colin watched wide-eyed as Merlin opened it and pulled out a picture. It was black and white. Colin recognized both men in the picture.

"That's Duke-" he began.

"Duke Dingo and You-Know-Who," Merlin finished for him. Colin still could not believe it.

"How did you get this?" he asked, as serious as he could. Merlin laughed.

"Ask him," he said, pointing to Lucius, who was walking through the door. Lucius waved and sat down next to Merlin.

"Well, you see, we received this from a source at the Ministry Intelligence Headquarters," Lucius said.

"Who?" Colin asked.

"This is one of those secret things we cannot reveal to the press. Do you know what I am talking about?" Lucius said. Colin nodded.

"So you got it from a secret source from the most secret place in the world?" Colin asked.

"To sum it up...yes." Lucius said. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Well, it's just that your story is sort of ludicrous, if you know what I mean, Mister Malfoy. Not to insult you in any means, Sir," Colin said. Malfoy's face turned red, but he kept his cool.

"Are you saying these are fake, Mister Creevey? Because when I'm done with you, you're going to have a fake heart!" Lucius exploded.

"Please, Sir, not me..." Colin said, cowering. Lucius jumped out of his seat while Merlin held him back.

"Just wait a moment," Merlin said. "Don't let your temper get the best of you. Sit down. Take some pills."

"What?" Lucius asked.

"Just kidding about the pills. Calm yourself down. Mister Creevey, you can come out now," Merlin said. Colin came up, emerging from behind the chair.

"You scared me!" he said.

"I'm sure," Lucius said.

"But these aren't pictures of when You-Know-Who was You-Know-Who," Colin said.

"Yes...these are pictures of Tom Riddle," Lucius said.

"That was his name before he became well, you know," Merlin said, clearing it up for Colin, who did not need it to be cleared at all.

"Yes, I know," Colin said. "Do you want me to publish these pictures in the _Daily Prophet_?" Lucius looked at Merlin.

"That would be the thing to do," Merlin said. "Only if you don't mind."

"Of course not. It's what I do - being a reporter and all," Colin said. He felt evil, as if something was wrong with the picture. Duke was smiling. Tom - no, You-Know-Who - was smiling. They were enjoying each other's company. Duke was much younger than the other man.

"Do you still want an interview?" Merlin asked. Colin sighed.

"No, but thank you," he said.

"You have all you need for the story of the millennium, the biggest story in the last thousand years," Lucius said.

"The last year. The millennium only just began," Colin said. Lucius stared at him.

"No, it didn't."

"Yes, it did."

"It did not!"

"Two zeroes. As in the start of a new thousand," Colin said.

"Did we start the calendar with the year O AD?"

"What?"

"That's what I thought. You see, we still are in the twentieth century as well as the second millennium," Lucius said.

"This is screwed up. There was this whole media blitz...I did a whole retrospective on it...and we're not through yet?" Colin said to no one.

"Tough luck, kid," Merlin said. "Learn your math."

"I feel a little wasted right now," Colin said.

"Don't we all," Lucius added. Colin nodded.

"It still confuses me...oh, well."

"Yes, it sometimes can be confusing...my son had to explain it to me," Lucius said.

"How is he doing?" Colin asked.

"Don't ask," Lucius said.

"But I already asked."

"Shut up!" Lucius said.

"Sorry," Colin said.

"Leave!" Lucius demanded.

"Okay," Colin said, standing up and scurrying out of the room for his life.

"You didn't have to be that harsh on him," Merlin said.

"Your point?" Lucius said, chuckling. Merlin nodded.

"I don't see," Merlin said.

"Don't ask," Lucius said.

"Why?"

"What did I tell you?"

"Okay."

* * *

Duke Dingo paced around the stage. The crowd was cheering. _The Daily Prophet_ was promising coverage of the rally, but they hadn't arrived yet. He hoped that Creevey boy would show up. He had enthusiasm about the race. The crowd chanted "Duke, Duke, Duke!"

A man walked through the back door. He had a camera over his neck and a notepad in his hand. Duke walked up to the podium and lowered his hands, asking the crowd to silence. They silenced, respecting Duke.

"Hello!" he said. The crowd applauded. "Thank you for attending! How are you doing today?"

"Just great!" responded the crowd. Duke did his one-two punch, and the crowd cheered.

"Thank you! Today we are here to rally your support for the campaign, if you didn't already know that." The crowd laughed a polite laugh. Duke smiled.

"It's amazing to enter the race with no one knowing who you are; and all of the sudden, you're famous. I don't know why it happened to me; but I promise you that when I am elected Minister of Magic, I will be the best ever!"

The crowd roared as Duke threw a one-two punch. Colin Creevey snapped a photo. Duke threw his arms into the air.

The rally continued with photos and flashiness and Duke in his prime. His smile was great, his attitude was great, his supporters were great.

Duke kept the mood till the end, in which a grand show of confetti and explosions filled the room. The words "DUKE DINGO FOR MINISTER OF MAGIC" were spelled out in the air. Duke did one more one-two punch and left the crowd wanting for more.

That next morning, the paper arrived at Duke's hotel room. Duke did something he hadn't done in months - he fainted.

_Hope you enjoyed it! I'm sorry it took so long...Duke has a troubled past...I hoped you liked this part - I don't like it as much as I do Chapter 4 or Chapter 3. Now I'm off to bed..._


	6. Double Life

Election Chapter 6:

Double Life

* * *

Duke Dingo awoke after a few minutes - or so he believed - of unconsciousness. The world was dark and fuzzy, incomprehensible. All that mattered was the newspaper headline: DUKE DINGO INVOLVED WITH YOU-KNOW-WHO??

Duke ran to the bathroom and flushed his face - not his toilet - with water. His head throbbed with pain. No need to drive it in, he thought to himself. Oh, well. He was already doing it anyway.

Duke returned to his room and opened the window, looking at a lovely view of a wall. He had come to expect it in hotels he stayed in around the world. He was...well, Duke Dingo; and he deserved better! He would have to deal with it.

He retired to his chair and wiped his brow. It was seven in the morning, Rome time. He pulled _The Daily Prophet_ next to him and flipped it open, adopting one of those I'm-a-socialite-reading-the-paper-and-I'm-better-than-you type of poses. His legs were crossed. He even checked his watch to add to the effect, though he did not realize it.

But he concentrated on the front page, reading the article. It was about Merlin and Lucius, full of their empty promises and Colin Creevey's experience in the interview.

So the picture had come from an unnamed source in Ministry Intelligence. Most interesting, Duke thought. But the weird thing was...this was true. He had known Voldemort - no, Tom Marvelo Riddle. He had been such a great person, so kind, so gentle, so peaceful. It must have taken some awful events for him to turn into Voldemort. He was not scared to say the name to himself...no matter how awful it had been.

_Duke, his parents, and Tom Riddle were laughing over dinner, once again telling the tale of how they met to Duke._

Duke Dingo continued to read the article...it saddened him to see false conclusions...

_"And thanks to Tom, we got out the lake alive!" his father said, finishing the tale. Tom smiled and cracked his knuckles._

"It was nothing, really," he said. "Just some stuff Muggles teach their children. It's called first aid."

"Sounds neat," Duke said. Tom ruffled Duke's hair.

"You sure bet it is!" Tom took another sip of the wine before speaking again. "So you just got out of Advanced Magic Training?" he asked to Duke.

"Yes, Sir. I majored in Transfiguration," Duke responded. "Had great grades in that."

"Did I ever tell you about the Chamber of Secrets?" Tom asked. Duke looked over at his parents, who were giving a silent "no" to Tom, who didn't notice.

"That's okay. My parents told me about it," Duke said, satisfying his parents.

"The whole thing?" Tom asked, eager to tell the story.

"Yes."

"Okay, then."

Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle had opened the Chamber of Secrets. He was sure of it. Duke had done his research. He _knew_ Tom had opened it. Why else would he know about it in the way he did?

_Duke rushed home to his parents. He was scheduled to have dinner with them. Roast at that. But there was something strange about the atmosphere surrounding the house..._

In present time, Duke Dingo began to cry. He began to cry as hard as he could. These memories...they had been revoked by the picture...it was so sad.

He had taken the picture just a day before Tom had "turned." Tom had been acting entirely normal, and then...

_The house was odd...strange. Duke sniffed and smelled something weird. Blood. As much as he didn't want to believe it...he knew something was wrong with Tom Marvelo Riddle._

Duke made his way through the kitchen, then to the dining room. Still no sign. He ran to the living room. Nothing there.

Duke quickly realized something. His parents could be upstairs in their bedroom. That was not good. If...no, he didn't want he didn't want to think about it. But...

Duke burst through the door, ready to kill, his arm armed with his wand. There was a bit of gloominess in the atmosphere.

And then he saw it...there was a hint of red on the white bed sheet. No, that could be ketchup. But he just knew...

He made his way to the bathroom, saddened. No...

He opened the door, closing his eyes. There were no sounds, no scary music as in the movies. Just silence...

This is so scary, Duke thought. The atmosphere surrounding him...the overall mood and tone...

And then his heart skipped a beat. He opened his eyes and saw a figure on the floor. There was a towel around her, soaked in red. "No..." Duke said. "This can't be..."

Memories...they were such haunting things...why did he have to remember them?

_His mother...she was there on the floor...dead...but where was his father? Duke knew it...he just knew it..._

Where? Where could he be? Duke opened the closet...nothing. It was reminding him of that book...And Then There Were None_...he was in a house with a killer. There was nothing good about that._

An inspiration came. If his father could have made it out alive, where would he be? Of course - the study!

Duke ran through the house. Its dark mood tore through his heart. He could almost see his father's figure...dead.

He tried opened the door to the study. It wouldn't budge...it was locked. Duke pulled out his wand and tried to open it.

Still...nothing.

This time he jumped at the door, kicking it. The wood broke, and he leaped inside. And he saw what he expected - not what he wanted. He wanted his father to be standing there with a knife next to Tom Riddle's head. But it was the exact opposite. There was a knife in his Donald Dingo's head.

Duke Dingo read the paper still. Lies, turmoil, why? Why did Merlin and Lucius have the nerve to bring this up? How?

There had been those strange men Duke had seen days following them. Perhaps they knew something Duke did not know. Duke had a picture of this handshake as well, but it did not match the one in the paper. The angle was different, but that was it.

Duke Dingo knew what he had to do...

* * *

Jack Darby stepped walked up the stairway at the London branch of _The Daily Prophet_. He had been asked to attend a meeting there for some unknown reason. If it was what he thought, it was serious trouble.

Room 879. Yes, that was it. He checked the slip of paper he had taken with him just to make sure. This room was it.

He opened the large door and found a table. It was large and reminded him of a Muggle interrogation table. Men were sitting across with black robes on. He recognized these men...

"Hello, Mister Darby," one said. He had slicked back hair with too much grease to tell the color. Jack Darby took a deep breath.

"Hello, Sir," he said. These two men...he knew who they were.

"Do you know who we are?" asked the other. He was entirely bald. Or at least Jack thought...

"I think so," Jack said. "Aren't you guys the Sirs, that top secret Ministry division?"

"If it's so top secret, how do you know about it?" asked Baldy. That was what Jack would call him.

"It's a rumor that's been going around for years. Come on, you guys have never heard it?" Jack said. The two other men looked at each other, still keeping straight faces.

"No," they both said in unison. Jack almost laughed at the absurdity of their answer.

"Well, then...who are you two guys?" Jack asked. "Like what should I call you?" Grease Man coughed "clearing his throat."

"I am Steven Spielberg, and this is my friend Lucas - Lucas George," Grease Man - or Steven - said.

"Okay..." Jack said, confused. What weird names!

"We have to talk to you about the night of February seventeenth, 2000. It seems that the man Zeus MacArthur was murdered - not killed - that night," Lucas said. Why hadn't they confronted me before? Jack wondered to himself.

"What do you want with me?" Jack asked. Steven nodded at Lucas.

"Well, it seems you did not attend the banquet, Jack. You _were_ his campaign manager - that means you usually ran the show behind the scenes. Where were you?" Lucas asked. Boy, these Sirs had certainly done their research.

"I was sick," Jack said. It was all he could get out.

"Really?" Steven said. This was not good. If they somehow could do it...

"Yes. I am a very sickly man - I have plenty allergies to go around," Jack responded.

"Ah, I see. So, that was the cause? Allergies?" Lucas asked. He was very intimidating. Jack blinked a long blink.

"Yes, allergies."

"What are you allergic to?" asked Steven. Jack hesitated.

"Dust, freshly-cut grass, almost anything you can name," Jack responded. Steven smiled.

"So I take it that you are also allergic to chocolate, strawberries, watermelon, as well?" Steven asked.

"How did you know?" asked Jack.

"We have our ways..." Lucas said. "We are not to tell you them."

"I see. Why have you waited so long to talk to me? Zeus died months ago."

"Well, it's taken a while to track you down, Jack," Steven said.

"You took this long to track me down?" Jack asked, amused. Steven was not, as was Lucas.

"Just because we are who we are does not mean we are all-powerful. It takes time," Lucas said.

"So you are the Sirs?" Jack asked. Lucas nodded.

"Yes. Now we are to perform a test on you because we know you are hiding something. Stand up." Jack stood up, and Steven neared him.

"Spread you arms apart," Steven said. "Yes, that's it..."

He poked Jack in various places with his black wand. Jack could feel a few pressure points, though nothing much.

Steven muttered something, and Jack's shirt lit off in various places. Jack suddenly realized what they were doing. They were checking for traces of magic inside his body.

"Yes, an allergy curse as well as a sickness curse...just what I expected..." said Steven. Jack realized something very quickly. He was caught.

"What? You expected to see this?" Jack said. He knew what he had to do.

"I can see that wand in your sleeve. I'm not an idiot," Steven responded. "Give me the wand."

Jack's face tensed as he considered giving into Steven's demands. Would he?

* * *

Duke Dingo sat behind the stage. A small group of journalists were outside - that was it - but they would tell his story to humanity. It was just so darn personal!

He ran his fingers threw his hair, feeling the grease the hairdresser had put on. It was way too much.

Take a deep breath, he told himself. You can do this. No matter how much it takes - the more, the better. The emotional impact it took just to even think about the events of his past...it was overwhelming.

"You don't have to do this, Duke," said William. "We can just issue a press release or something."

"No. I have to do this. The press release will still make it too unreal, like a cover-up," Duke said. There were tears in his eyes.

"I understand, Duke. But really...you must reconsider," William replied, putting his hand on Duke's shoulder.

"You don't understand anything," Duke said. "Your parents weren't the first victims of him, were they?"

"My parents are dead, too, Duke," William responded.

"How? Murder? Cancer?"

"Cancer," William said. "They both had cancer."

"Well, I guess it's time," Duke said, "to get this over with." Duke stepped out of his chair and into the room. The stage was small - the attendants were even smaller. Duke could count about seven, all standing. They had notepads and seemed to be ready for a not-so-momentous occasion. They were seriously wrong.

"Hello," Duke said in a most boring manner. "I'm sure you know why you're here. Today I am supposed to make an announcement.

"What is that announcement, you ask? Well, it has to do with my past. As many of you are aware, a picture of me shaking the hand of You-Know-Who was on the cover of _The Daily Prophet_. I knew him - before he was called by his feared name. He was great friends with my parents.

"That day I had noticed people following him - apparently he was suspected to be homicidal. Don't ask me how or why, but they knew. And my parents were his first victims." Duke sniffed, driving the pain into the crowd. Through his teary eyes he could make out a few reporters wiping the eyes.

"I had known him as Tom Riddle. Believe it or not, Tom Riddle had been Head Boy at Hogwarts. He was a nice chap - I can't believe I'm using that word - that I had trusted for a long time in my life.

"I remember coming home on fateful night...Tom had indicated he was being followed, as I also noticed. Perhaps someone knew he was dangerous...if the Ministry knew, why didn't they tell?

"According to the Ministry, my parents were his first victims, though I do not know if that is true - we'll say it is for now. He must have been homicidal, maybe there was a sign he was. Now thanks to lies by Merlin O'Brien and Lucius Malfoy, I am in this awful, saddening position. It sickens me to see how far one would go to endanger his rival.

"Now, I am going to leave this without answering any questions. This is too much of a personal matter for me to elaborate on. Thank you and may God bless you."

And Duke Dingo left it at that.

* * *

At the same time, Jack Darby was still in his interrogation. His eyes danced from Steven to Lucas, then back to Steven. Were those names their real names? He knew they were Sirs, but he was waiting for his meeting with the famed black wand. Was it going to happen?

"Take the wand. I have no need for it now," Jack said. Seconds later his white wand - fourteen inches long, made of cypress - was in Steven's hand. Steven handed it to Lucas.

"Thank you, Jack. Now you can't do what you were going to do," Lucas said.

"Where were you the night of February seventeenth?" asked Steven with a menacing look on his face.

"Home - I was sick," Jack responded. Steven and Lucas laughed.

"We're not idiots, Jack. We already know you weren't sick - naturally," Steven said.

"Where were you?" Lucas asked. Jack gritted his teeth. Steven looked at Lucas. Lucas nodded. Steven took out a small knife.

"Look at it, Jack. This is a weapon - so powerful, yet so small. I could slit your throat like _that_," Steven said. Jack could feel the cool knife just inches away from his throat. his throat. The pain it would cause was not something he wanted to imagine that very moment.

"I am well aware of what it is," Jack said. Steven smiled evilly. Lucas did the same.

_"Tell me where you where the night of February seventeenth!"_ Steven demanded, holding the knife even closer to Jack's neck.

"No," Jack said. The knife was now on his throat. With one flick of his hand, Steven Spielberg could cut Jack's jugular vein in an instant. Jack knew that he would die almost instantaneously.

"Do you know what I could do with this knife?" Steven asked. Lucas arose from his chair and stood next to Steven, a smile on his face.

"But would you do it?" Jack asked. Steven withdrew the knife, his hand on Jack's shoulder with a grip too uncomfortable for Jack's tastes.

"Yes, I would." Steven kicked Jack in the stomach, sending him to the wall.

"Where were you?" he demanded.

"I'm not telling!" Jack said. Lucas walked up to Jack, took off his robes, and threw them on Jack's head. Lucas was a muscular man, and he certainly had the advantage over Jack.

"Tell me," Lucas said in one of the most evil voices Jack had ever heard. Jack blinked, as if in a dream.

"No." Lucas kicked Jack - who was still on the ground - in the stomach. Jack felt like his insides were on a first class ticket out of his stomach - not that Jack knew what a first class ticket was. Jack could taste blood in his mouth.

"Do you wanna die?" asked Lucas. Jack smiled.

"What's the difference between that and this?"

"Don't get smart with me," Lucas said. Jack stood up, spitting blood onto Lucas's shoes.

"Don't do that," Lucas said. Jack felt a sudden burst of energy as the pain of his insides began to cease. He took a kick at the head of the Sir. Steven was at the other end of the room, watching.

Lucas blocked the kick with his left hand and swung at Jack with his right. Jack ducked, and the hand hit the wall.

He took advantage of the situation, and launched a perfect kick at Lucas's stomach. Lucas grunted and fell back. Jack kicked Lucas in the face then gave him an upper cut. Nothing was going to get past him.

Lucas pulled out his wand. Jack stopped. "You are a fighter, Jack," Lucas said. "But not good enough for me. With moves as fast as lightning, Jack tripped Lucas and grabbed the wand, breaking it in half.

"Really?" he said before stomping Lucas in the face. He bent down and smiled. "I've killed before - though that was on hire. This time, it's survival." He punched Lucas in the face. Lucas's face turned to the side. Jack reached for another punch, but his arm was pulled back.

"Not so fast, Mister Darby," said Steven. Jack head-butted Lucas - it cost him way too much pain.

"Let go, or I kill Lucas," Jack said, his head throbbing with pain. There was no loosening of the grip. "You don't want me to kill your partner now, do you?"

The grip on Jack's arms was no more. Jack jumped up, spun around, and landed a roundhouse kick right at Steven's face. He could see the imprint of his shoe on Steven's face. Now, there was one problem: he could kill both with a single spell. But he did not have his wand.

There was only one way. He launched a kick and then three punches at Steven, sending Steven to the floor. He darted to the table and saw his wand - or rather what remained of it. It was broken in half.

He turned back, facing Lucas - who was recovering. Jack eyed Steven - unconscious. He jumped on top of Steven, searching Steven's robes for his black wand. He found it, pulling it out and snapping it in half. Ah, success.

There was something cold poking into Jack's neck. There was no possible way it could be a wand. Where was that knife?

"Ah, success," Lucas said, echoing Jack's thought. Jack closed his eyes for one long moment. Was he dead? No, not yet.

"Are you going to kill me?" Jack asked.

"I don't know...maybe," came the response from Lucas. Jack gritted his teeth and searched his thoughts. How could he get out of this jam?

"What do you have in your pocket?" asked Lucas, leading Jack up.

"Nothing," Jack replied.

"Are you sure?" Lucas asked. He turned Jack away from Steven. Jack thought for a moment.

"Yes."

Then a blow came from behind. Jack yelled in pain. He was being punished. Being punished for becoming a cold-blooded murderer. An altogether too deadly, too horrible man to survive. But if he was too horrible, what about the men that stood before him?

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," Jack said. Lucas smiled.

"That's the spirit. Do you believe you can live?" he asked. Jack could barely see - he was sure his eyes were bloodshot.

"I know I'm going to die," Jack said. Lucas's face turned grim.

"Who hired you?" he asked. Jack could barely breathe - his lungs were punctured.

"I can't tell," Jack said.

"We can save you if you tell, Jack. We really can," said Steven. Jack's world was black. He closed his eyes...

A montage of his life was playing inside his head. His heart was slowing. He was dying..the rightful way. But he had been abused by the people that governed him...was it truly right?

He could feel punches, kicks, head-butts, all to his body. He could see the meeting with Zeus...the meeting with...Him. The meeting with the man who had hired him. It was all so real, yet all so vague. Then it shattered. He took one final breath, and he gave away. He gave his body to wherever it was going...to whoever it would belong to for all the rest of time.

Lucas George witnessed Jack Darby's limp body fall to the floor. It landed with a sickening thud. He and Steven had been told to seek this man out and use whatever means necessary to find out who killed Zeus MacArthur. But perhaps they had gone _too_ far.

"There is certainly something very odd about this election race," Lucas said.

"It's as if someone is pulling the strings - or at least trying to," came the response from Steven.

"But who?"

_Author's Note: I just finished the sixth part of this story! Hurray for me! I hope you like it! And the Sirs have been in the story before...was this a good plot twist? I want to keep you guessing till the end. You see the story was meant to be mystery first, satire second. Zeus was always meant to die. But I want to thank everyone who reviewed! I'm going to ask you to review - the reviews Chapter 5 received were great, but there were only three! ::sniff:: Well, enough from me...I hope to get this over with soon...I know it will be a shame to see the story go, but all good things...and you need to review. You do it for everyone else - can't you do it for me?_


	7. Puppets on a String

Election Chapter 7:

Puppets on a String

* * *

It's as if someone is playing with puppets," Steven responded. "It's very scary to think about."

"Do you think it's someone involved with the election directly?" asked Lucas. Steven looked down at the limp figure of Jack Darby.

"Perhaps, but we could just be dealing with a psycho terrorist. Didn't the Dragon's Fire try to do this once?" responded Steven. Lucas thought for a moment.

"Perhaps...seems like the sort of thing our friend Voldemort would have done as well, but he's dead," Lucas said.

"Like someone else here..." said Steven.

"Was it...did we...was it cold blood? Perhaps we were too hard," Lucas said.

"One wonders what he thought those last moments," Steven said.

"Yes; but I could feel something go inside me, as if I _wanted_ to kill him," Lucas said. Steven looked at his partner.

"We had orders. Those orders stood. We had to go to whatever means necessary to extract information. Perhaps we did go too hard, but he deserved it. Good always triumphs," Steven said.

"That is what horrifies me..."

* * *

Merlin O'Brien paced back and forth in his office. Duke Dingo had cleared his name - it said so in _The Daily Prophet_ and many other newspapers and magazines. And the Ministry had issued a press release. They were supposedly hot on the trail of Zeus MacArthur's murderer. He had also received a letter from the nice folks at the Ministry:

Dear Merlin O'Brien,

Our team of investigators have met with a member of the terrorist group that killed Zeus MacArthur. We cannot give you specific details; but according to the men who interrogated the member, the member committed suicide. We advise you to tighten security; we believe that this unknown terrorist group is trying to somehow control the election. If you have (or have had) attacks against you in any way, shape, or form, please contact us immediately. We wish you luck in the election.

Thank you,

The Ministry Department of Investigation

Strange, Merlin thought. Why didn't they tell me more? Perhaps it was security issues. Or maybe something else - either way, it was highly doubtful someone would get _him_.

He sat down at his desk, still breathing hard. Why was he breathing so hard? Why was he so nervous?

* * *

At the same time, Duke Dingo paced through his office, unsure of what he was thinking as well. He had received just about the same letter Merlin had received - though he didn't know Merlin had received a letter and didn't care. He felt strange. He was sure of one thing. He would have to watch his back. Yes, he was sure of that.

Duke relaxed himself, taking a long breath and exhaling, beginning to meditate. He chanted nothing meaningful at all and crossed his legs, spreading his arms out. His eyes closed, and he saw colors - sort of. There was yellow and blue and purple and red and hot pink and olive green and other colors of which he did not know the name for.

He blocked out sounds of Muggle traffic - or at least tried to, screeching cats, barking dogs, crying babies, explosions, tigers, and the like - if there was a like.

He thought about nothing in particular...because there wasn't anything particular to think about. Plus, the man who had taught him meditation and yoga had told him to think of nothing in particular - just pink, fluffy clouds and flying ponies. Duke did not like to think of those things. That was why he thought of nothing in particular - he avoided thinking of the ponies. Oh, how wonderful a flying pony could be...it would be wonderful...perhaps. But he shouldn't be thinking of that. Enough politicians wished they could have them, and he did not want to be a normal politician.

But enough with that. Men should not be thinking of flying horses - it was not a manly thing. He would have to send a letter to the yoga teacher - his methods didn't work. He _was_ thinking of fluffy clouds and flying ponies. This sucked, but he needed it. He had to relax...that was the advice the guys at the headquarters had given him. William had especially enforced it.

There was a knock at the door.

The meditation ceased to a halt - it couldn't be silent; there had been no sound.

Duke blinked, staring around the room. His heart skipped a beat as he thought of the letter. No, it couldn't be. No one was going to kill him.

Duke approached the door with as much calmness as possible - it was tough to look calm when the Ministry said your life was threatened. It was tough to be sane. If it was a murderer, what could he do?

He paused. Not many knew he was in the hotel room. He had to calm himself down. But there was the person at the door. What if it was Dracula or Doctor Frankenstein's monster? Ugh - those old Muggle books. Excellent works - just slightly too scary for his tastes.

There was only one way to save himself - or kill himself. He opened the door.

* * *

Colin Creevey walked into his office. It was an office - not a cubicle like most others had. He was a talented reporter - yes, a talented reporter. That was what Mister Hedging had said. Of course, there were many things Mister Hedging had said, but they didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that he was a talented reporter.

Colin sat down at his desk, opening his drawer and pulling out a bottle of Muggle root beer. It was _not_ beer - rather something non-alcoholic and much better. He had tried to convince everyone at the office that it was perfectly healthy to get addicted to, but no one believe him. Why did that not surprise him?

He looked at the parchment on his desk and wondered why wizards couldn't modernize. His dad was a milkman - for crying out loud, he was more modern than wizards! Colin especially enjoyed using Muggle computers. He had found all these "websites" on the "Internet" - was that what they were called? There were a lot of "sites" about wizards - yes, that was slang for the term "website." One had a biography of Harry Potter - the famous Harry Potter. The famous Harry Potter that had defeated You-Know-Who. The famous Harry Potter that had been fired by Duke Dingo - and rightfully so. The famous Harry Potter that had left a note on his desk:

**Colin, I've got a story that will give you your big break. Want to know how Duke Dingo really is? How much of a jerk he is? He fired me for no reason. I'm going to be at the Ministry's East Offices in London for the next few days. Hermione and Ron will be there, if you want to see them. I'm training to become a professor. I figure Defense Against the Dark Arts would be just fine. Don't you? Ron's been working there for a while as a lawyer. And Hermione - her job's so secret, I couldn't tell you. Just drop by before Monday.**

Colin thought for a moment. He had lived his life as an unsung hero, while Harry Potter masqueraded around, a hero for the world. It was very annoying. He was tired of being an unsung hero. He had done his share in cleaning up the evil of the world. But right now, he had different things to attend to.

The door was open, and a tall red-haired young man walked in. Colin could figure it was a Weasley, but which one? Fred and George were slightly shorter than Ron, and they did not wear glasses. The man at the door did not wear glasses. Then the man pulled his face off.

"That is very disgusting," Colin said.

The man laughed. It was Joey Walcha. Colin remembered his old pal from school. He was the person who had shown him the newspaper article.

"Colin, old buddy! How 'ya been?" Joey asked, eager to strike up a conversation.

"What does it look like? Where are you working?" Colin asked. Maybe he could get that interview with Harry done.

"I've been working wherever, bouncing from one job to another. But I think I'm about to settle down and work at a place my dad owns - you know, the bookstore," Joey responded. Joey's father had been one of the editors of _The Daily Prophet_ before buying a bookstore.

"Oh," Colin said. "Well, I've got to run. I have an interview," Colin said. Joey nodded.

"Oh, cool. Hey, we'll do lunch?" But it was too late. Colin was out the door.

* * *

The East Offices - yes, that was it. It was a bright, hot sunny morning in July. Colin Creevey wiped the sweat of his brow and opened the sliding door. He checked his watch - it was half past three, or about. He didn't have forever to sit and stare to determine the exact time.

The doors opened - as was expected of a door - Colin found himself inside one of the most magnificent rooms he had ever seen. It wasn't that the room itself was magnificent - though it truly was - it was the atmosphere that surrounded Colin. The place was quiet - almost perfect - but he could tell the people that were there were serious about everything they were doing. Not that it mattered. He had to find Harry Potter.

Perhaps there was some type of map to help him find Harry Potter. He looked around the room. It might look like some type of plaque...there,

he found one!

No, that wasn't it. It was just something commemorating the building. He guessed he would have to find Potter on his own.

He ran through the crowded group, trying to get to one of the elaborate staircases. He was bumped by just too many people. He bounced from one rail to another, and he got one heck of a headache.

He finally reached the top. He was exhausted, out of breath, and had a heck of a headache. This was where all the offices would be - or so he figured.

So he ran down the hall corridors, looking for Harry Potter's name on one of the placards on a door. There was no Harry Potter in any office on the right side.

Thus, he checked the left. Still nothing. What was going on? Perhaps Potter was in an unmarked office, yes, that was it.

"Excuse me," he asked a man walking by, "where is Harry Potter's office?" The other man looked at Colin.

"What do you mean? Harry Potter doesn't work here," the man said. Colin could only stare at the other.

"I got a letter from Harry today, telling me to meet him here," Colin said, handing the other the letter. The other man nearly ripped it from Colin's hand.

"My name's Scott Ridley," the man said, smiling at Colin. Colin glared at Scott. Colin thought he recognized the name for an instance. Nah, it couldn't be.

"Colin Creevey." Colin shook the smiling man's hand. The man still smiled.

"Who do you work for?" asked Scott. Colin was about to ask Scott that same question, but he figured the answer was pretty obvious: the Ministry.

How correct he was.

"_Daily Prophet_," Colin said. "I'm the main reporter on the race." Scott nodded approvingly.

"I work for the Ministry," Scott said. Colin had been right.

Almost.

"Here?" Colin asked.

"Follow me," Scott said. Scott led Colin through a secret door - nobody noticed this secret door - and into a room.

"You can leave whenever you would like to, but I do advise you to sit down," Scott said. There was another man sitting at the table. This table was rather small, and Colin took his seat.

"I'm Tom Hanks," the man said, shaking Colin's hand. Wait a moment - Colin had heard these names before. Well, at least Tom Hanks.

"Who are you guys? Come on, I've caught on to this little game," Colin said. "Tom Hanks is this movie star that also directs and Scott Ridley - I mean Ridley Scott - is a director as well. He just came out with this new Muggle movie: _Gladiator_," Colin said. The man known as Scott Ridley smiled.

"Your knowledge impresses me. It's rare we find a wizard with your knowledge," Scott said. Colin smiled.

"Thank you. I'm sure you pulled off this stunt on other people with Steven Spielberg's name and George Lucas's, too," Colin said.

"No, we definitely didn't," responded Tom - known to Jack Darby as Steven Spielberg.

"Sure," Colin said. Tom's face straightened.

"I'd like to ask you some questions," he said. Colin groaned.

"Let me ask you one first," Colin said. "Who are you really?" Colin had a feeling, but he wanted to see if he could drive it out of the two.

"I can't reveal my true name, but you can call me Alpha," Alpha - or Tom - said.

"I think I'd rather call you Tom," Colin said.

"Suit yourself," Tom said. "We'll just keep our old names. Colin squirmed in his seat a little.

"I am intimidating you?" Tom asked.

"Maybe," Colin said. Colin was making mental notes on this. "Where in the Ministry do you work?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," Tom said. Scott pulled his chair farther up to the table - it looked as if his stomach was about to be crushed. Colin knew who these guys were.

"You guys can tell me you are Sirs now," Colin said. Perhaps they were treating him carefully because he part of the press.

"Fine then; we are. Now we need to ask the cooperation of _The Daily Prophet_. Everything you hear us say if the truth, the beliefs of the Ministry," Scott said. Colin nodded.

"I understand."

"We believe someone is trying to control the election. They have already killed Zeus, and we believe they may strike again. There was an insider in the case, Jack Darby. He is dead." There was a pause as the two agents remembered their encounter.

"Why do you need our cooperation?" Colin asked.

"Look, we don't want you exaggerating at all when you report this story. Whether or not you report it, it's up to you," Tom said. "And as for Harry Potter, we don't know if he's here. This is our headquarters - keep that secret - but someone may have been playing some type of practical joke on you. I've met him before, and he would not write like that. Even if his head's a little inflated, I don't think he'd go that extreme."

A few minutes later, Colin walked out the secret room, a man bound to a promise that he would love to break. But he could not write any editorial, speculate in any form, or anything like that. Free speech was out the window. He had to get to his office...

* * *

Lucius Malfoy smiled. Merlin O'Brien smiled. The man looking back at them did not.

"What?" Lucius asked. There were at a customs office in a Muggle airport in Madrid. The Muggle looked at Lucius strangely. But Lucius was wearing Muggle clothing.

"Your passport, your visa," said the man, "where are they?" Lucius didn't understand - why couldn't they have just apparated? No, Merlin had to insist.

"What are you talking about?" They had just shown up at the gate to their plane, and it was definitely cramped in Heathrow - was that the name? Yes, it was.

"This is insane. You're under arrest," the Spanish man said. Lucius just shook his head. "Where are your identification cards?" God, Lucius thought.

"Just send us back to England," Merlin insisted. His first ride on an airplane, and look what happened! He would have to do more research next time he flew on a confounded Muggle machine. There was a ringing noise. Lucius cowered, while Merlin stayed still. "It's a telephone," he said to Lucius.

"A what?"

"Never mind. It's nothing to be scared of," Merlin said. Lucius didn't look too sure.

"Let's just apparate out of here," Lucius said. "This is stupid." And so they did.

Seconds later, the Spanish man turned around; and the two men he had been holding disappeared.

Thirty minutes later, there was an arrest warrant for the two unknown men.

* * *

Lucius and Merlin made their way outside the airport, wearing an invisibility cloak. They had picked up their bags before.

They looked for the Muggle limo that would carry them to their destination: a meeting with the heads of the struggling Pureblood Party of Spain. The Peoples' Party had taken a sixty percent lead in the polls; and though Spain did not have as many wizards as most countries, it was still something to worry about. The race was already close, and they didn't need it to get closer.

The long car came around the corner. The doors opened, a man walked out and looked around while Merlin and Lucius got in. Then the man stepped into the car, closed the door; and they were off.

"Welcome to Spain, Mister Malfoy, Mister O'Brien. We welcome your presence. But why did you travel by airplane?" said the man, whom Lucius and Merlin knew to be Anthony Gonzalez, the head of the Peoples' Party.

"Why are we in this confounded Muggle contraption?" asked Lucius. Anthony laughed.

"It's our only way of transport. You?"

"Don't look at me," Lucius said. "Look at him."

Merlin smiled.

"Ah, I see," Anthony said, laughing. He pointed to a small building. "That is where we shall go, friends."

The three men stepped out of the car, each dressed in Muggle business suits. Lucius and Merlin carried suitcases. They opened the door and were saved from the August heat by air conditioning. Thank goodness for Muggles, Merlin thought. No matter how despicable they are. He took off the jacket as they were led to a room to relax in.

"Please, feel free to sit and relax," said Anthony. He pointed to the bathroom. "You may change your clothes if you would like. I will see you in an hour." Lucius rolled his eyes as the door closed.

"That guy is strange. Do we really have to meet with the others, too?" Lucius complained. Merlin was a much better businessman; he knew how to deal with this.

"Look, just come on...we've got to do this," Merlin said. Lucius groaned.

"Who cares about the Spanish popular vote?"

"We do," Merlin said.

"I never raised my hand. Besides, we should be concentrating on the French vote. That's more important, and it's much closer," Lucius responded.

"The meetings won't last long. Trust me," Merlin said. An hour later they were led to a desk and greeted by Anthony and Antonio, his brother. Antonio helped him run the place.

"I hope your accommodations were satisfactory," Antonio said. Lucius began to open his mouth, but Merlin elbowed him.

"More than satisfactory," Merlin said.

"As you are aware, Duke Dingo has been gaining support throughout Spain. He has eighty percent in the polls," Anthony said.

"We would like to know if you want to drop out of the race in Spain. Technically, we can do that; but we cannot advise that. It could still hurt the close enough worldwide vote you have to put up with," Anthony continued. Merlin took this hard. Lucius could have cared less.

"That's it!" Lucius exploded. "You brought us to Spain for this! I'm leaving, getting my bags and going!" Lucius stormed out the room. Merlin agreed. This was a waste of time. They needed better management in Spain.

"I'm sorry," Merlin said. "But we've got an...uh...interview tomorrow with some press guys. Why don't you get with us another time?" Merlin, queasy and uneasy, left the room, following his friend. He no longer cared about Spain. The place itself was unorganized and a waste of his time. He grabbed his suitcase. Lucius was waiting.

"That was a complete waste of time," Lucius said.

"A disgrace to the Pureblood Party," Merlin said.

"Let's go home," Lucius said. The two apparated.

* * *

When they got to their offices, they were shocked to see Homer Lyte in a state of shock. He was holding an envelope in his left hand, a letter in his right.

"What?" Lucius asked.

"There's...a letter...here...in...my...hand...a death threat..."

_Author's Note: Hate to leave you guys on the edge - AGAIN! I can't tell you when the next chapter will come out - it will either be VERY soon, or until late June, early July. (I'm leaving for summer camp.) Feel free to make your guesses, folks! I'm sorry this has taken so long to write, but they original plan was to wait until this was all done till I posted it. So, BE HAPPY! :-) Goodbye for now, hope you enjoyed!_


	8. A Father's Love

Election Chapter 8:

A Father's Love

* * *

Lucius Malfoy grabbed the letter. Merlin O'Brien grabbed the letter. It was the scariest thing that had ever happened to them. But this time it was strange.

They were holding Harry Potter hostage. (They were the people that had written the fake note to Colin, but the Sirs got there first on an anonymous owl.) They were also holding Draco Malfoy hostage. They had seven days to pay a ransom of one million America Muggle dollars. Why this? Merlin had figured it out. One million American Muggle dollars equaled five million Galleons. That was a fortune. If Lucius and Merlin didn't pay the ransom, Harry and Draco would be killed, followed by Lucius and Merlin.

This was one race they had to win.

* * *

Just hours before, Duke had opened the door. The two men standing outside the door were dressed in elegant cloaks. Who were these men?

"Are you going to kill me?" Duke asked.

"No," said one man. "We're here to protect you." Duke exhaled loudly.

"From whom?" he asked.

"We're not sure yet," one man said. "But the Ministry's letter to you is proof enough. My name's Kyle Hart. This is my friend Ethan Hunt." Duke shook hands with the two.

"Who hired you?" Duke asked.

"Peoples' Party - William Henry to be more precise," Ethan replied. He had certainly been caring about Duke more than he had used to care.

"Oh," Duke replied. "For how long?" Ethan looked at Kyle.

"However long we are needed," Kyle said.

"How long would that be?" Duke said. "Come on, you must have some idea."

"If we did, we'd tell you. But we don't, so we can't. We're getting paid a lot for this, you know," Ethan said. He didn't look much like a bodyguard to Duke - he looked rather pathetic in the body department. Neither did Kyle.

"What company do you work for?" Duke asked.

"International Wizard Security Service," Kyle said. That was the best bodyguard service in the world. Perhaps size mattered not in this case. He hoped so.

"Good," Duke said. "Do you really think some guy is going to kill me?" Duke had been trying to hide the fears he had been having. Kyle and Ethan were catching on.

"Don't worry," Kyle said. "We're going to make sure nobody kills you." That was their promise. Duke hoped it would not be broken.

* * *

Merlin and Lucius were meeting with George Weasley, a hostage negotiator for the Ministry's Criminal Investigation Unit. It was his job to get the ransom paid, as well as getting Draco and Harry out of there alive.

The Pureblood Party had issued a press release stating that they were working hard on getting the two back. No reason had been issued.

"Let me get this straight," George said. "You two and Draco Malfoy, along with Potter will be killed if you do not pay one million American Muggle dollars?"

"Precisely," Merlin said.

"Why Muggle money?" George asked.

"The exchange rate," Lucius said. George frowned.

"The exchange rate?"

"Well, a million American Muggle dollars equals five million galleons - a nice small fortune," Lucius said.

"Yes, that is a small fortune," George replied. "I could certainly use that much." Lucius did not snicker like Draco might have when he was younger - all he cared about was getting Draco back alive. "And we've got till Thursday - that's not that much time, only three days. How am I supposed to get that kind of money in three days?"

"I could offer up five million galleons," Lucius said. "We should be paying, not the Ministry."

"No," George said. "Don't pour your fortune away on this. If we could negotiate..."

"It doesn't matter right now!" Merlin said. "What matters is getting Draco back alive - I could care less about Potter - and we'll do that any way we can!"

"Okay," George said. "Are you two going to split the money?" Lucius looked at Merlin.

Almost simultaneously, Merlin and Lucius each wrote out a check for two and a half million galleons. They handed them to George.

"Get my boy back alive," Lucius said.

"I'll see what I can do," George said.

* * *

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy sat in a large room, each in a comfortable reclining chair. I guess we're being treated rather well for hostages, Draco thought. It was a Monday, and they had to stay here till Thursday. But if the ransom wasn't paid....no, he couldn't think about that.

There was a loud knock on the door. Harry glanced at Draco. Both had looks of terror in their eyes.

The door opened, and a man in an invisibility cloak came out, carrying two trays. Draco's mouth watered. There was good food on the trays: a hamburger and French fries. Harry Potter rubbed his hands together.

"We got an owl from your pop," said the man, pulling a letter out of his invisible pocket. "Says he wants to make a deal. They got George Weasley on the case - son of a gun." George Weasley, famous hostage negotiator. Harry cracked a smile.

"What's the deal?" Draco asked.

"He didn't say, but he also says he doesn't want to - I mean can't - pay five million galleons. I thought he was rich," said the kidnapper. He was one of four.

"I thought you were being paid by someone else as well," Draco asked. Harry Potter was too busy eating to say anything at all.

"Yeah, and we got-" The man cut himself off in mid-sentence. He couldn't give stuff away now, could he? His employer would kill him.

"Got what?" Draco asked, his hamburger in his hand.

"Can't tell you," the man said. If Draco had seen him, Draco would have seen the kidnapper grin. The door was opened by an invisible hand and slammed shut.

"So your pop's gonna pay both our ransoms?" Harry asked to Draco. Harry had been very annoying lately; one might blame his ego, now inflated after defeating You-Know-Who eight times.

"Shut up, Potter." Draco wiped his sweaty brow. He wished he had his wand, but it had been most unfortunately snapped in half.

"At least we're living in luxury," Harry said.

"You call this luxury? It's too bloody hot in here! Besides, if our ransoms aren't paid, you _and_ me both die, along with my father and Merlin O'Brien! I don't think that's luxury!" Draco exploded.

"Calm yourself down, Malfoy. Why don't we just escape?" Harry asked.

"That's stupid. I remember how they said it, too: 'Escape and die.' You really want to die?" Draco asked.

" 'To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure,' " Harry said. Draco recognized the quote.

"Well, I'm not ready to go on my next great adventure because I don't feel like dying right now!" Draco yelled.

Draco began to think. Was the kidnapper really telling the truth? No, it couldn't be. Yes, that was it. The kidnapper had been lying. And even though he did not know if it was true, it most certainly was.

* * *

It was Wednesday. The madness was in full swing. Even though they had specifically requested privacy, the press was giving them one heck of a time. They had been forced to hold another press conference - would it ever stop?

First up was Lucius Malfoy's personal psychiatrist. He begin to state how Lucius's condition was "just perfect." The press seemed to believe him. Lucius smiled, though we wasn't perfect at all. No matter how much he did not like his son, he yearned for him.

Then came George Weasley. He said it was going smoothly, and everything was going to turn out fine. It was almost amazing, but he didn't say that. One would expect something like that to drag on for months.

Then came Lucius Malfoy. His face was paler than usual - a tough feat.

"This is a psychological trauma no parent wants to go through. I will get my son and Harry Potter out alive. I don't care how much it costs. Now, please leave me alone," Lucius said. The press was still asking questions, but they would not be answered.

Lucius Malfoy just wished that all could be fine. He wished he could be Draco, alone with Harry Potter. But he just wished this would be over.

* * *

George Weasley stuffed the last of the coins into the case - that had been the specific request. They were worn coins, barely shining. But most importantly, they were real.

He was to meet the kidnappers at the newly-built Dumbledore Square in London's Wizard District. There was a restaurant they had in mind: the Unicorn's Horn.

He approached the lovely restaurant with a smile on his face, looking for the hooded man. He saw him.

George broke out into a run. The hooded man suddenly appeared out of the door and pushed George down.

"You have the money?" the man asked. He pointed an object at George, of which George recognized as a gun.

"Of course," George said. "Where are the kids?"

"Get in the train. I've reserved a private car," said the man. George obeyed the man's commands. "You'll see them in a few hours."

George walked up to the train, being led by the gun in the man's hand. It is certainly odd a wizard is holding one of these things, George thought. But then again, it was faster than magic.

"Now, give me the suitcase," the man said, "or I blow your darn head off." George obeyed. "Now get in a passenger car. They know who you are. Don't draw any attention to yourself. Or you, the kids, and those two politicians die."

George obeyed once more.

The man began to count the galleons. True, he couldn't count to five million; and it was a _huge_ suitcase. But his wand could. He said a counting spell, and the coins began to glow. There was a spark from his wand. Yes, these were real galleons. Yes, this was five million.

In reality the suitcase would not have held five million coins. However, thanks to a nifty charm by George, it could. He had forgotten about the wait, and the kidnapper did not like that. He attached a floating charm, set the suitcase down, and went into a passenger car.

"Mister Weasley," he said. George stood up. "You may come back now." George smiled. He knew it wouldn't take long. He was led by the criminal.

"So you are satisfied?" George asked as he walked in the car. The criminal nodded, his face still hooded.

"Good," George said. "Who are you anyway?"

"I will not tell," the kidnapper said. "It is safer."

"Yes, I understand," George replied. He pulled the window blinds up and stared out into the countryside, or rather the city. People waved at him as the city rushed by.

"Our stop," said the criminal a few minutes later. George was led off the bus into a car. He guessed it was more normal-looking to use a Muggle device in a Muggle town. Oh, well.

The window was black. Pitch black.

"Put this hood on," George's kidnapper said. George obeyed. "Lie down on the floor." George obeyed once more.

After twenty minutes of dead silence the car door opened. George was led up a short way to the house.

"Take off your mask." George shielded his eyes as he did so. The light was almost blinding. For the first time, George took into account the kidnapper's accent. It was Scottish. The Dragon's Fire was Scottish. Perhaps there was a connection.

None of the other kidnappers talked. It was as if this had all been planned, which it had.

George soon found himself thrown into a room. He took off his mask to find Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy looking better than usual.

"Wow," George said. "I was expected you two had been abused." Draco laughed.

"I had been expecting that as well. I guess we were lucky," he said. Harry nodded in agreement.

"Either way, we've had a rather easy time. Has my father missed me?" Draco asked. George paused for a moment - he did not know what to say.

"Yes. He has missed you." Draco nearly cried.

"I have missed him as well." That was all the boy could say. George began to cry as well. Harry Potter could only smile.

"When will we leave?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure, but I imagine we are free to go. I'll go ask," George replied. He pulled on the hood, and led himself to the door, knocking on it.

"What?" came the reply. It was the Scottish man.

"Can we leave?" asked George.

"Sure. Hold on." There was a shuffling of feet, and George smiled. He pulled of his hood.

"I hope this election controversy is over," he said. Draco shook his head.

"I doubt it is," Draco said.

"Do you think this is connected to all of it? I mean, it probably is; but you know..." George said.

"I believe it is. They may be being paid by a third party," said Harry. George believed this was true.

"Put on your hoods!" came a yell. "We're coming in!" It was not the Scottish man.

Harry, Draco, and George obeyed. They were silent as the door was almost broken down.

"One of the hinges is off," said a man.

* * *

Draco, Harry, and George made their way off the train at Dumbledore Square. There was no press.

"Follow me," George said. He left Dumbledore Square and once again entered the Wizard District.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked. George caught his breath and stopped.

"My office."

The ran through the tangles of people. They was still no press, but people were pointing at them.

They finally came to the front door of George's office. They quietly made their way through. The place exploded into cheers. George smiled. Lucius Malfoy approached him.

"Thank you, George. I just cannot thank you enough," Lucius said. He stared at his son. George could see the strain in his eyes.

George made his way back to a different group: the press. He would have had to deal with it sooner or later.

"Hello," he said to the small group. Colin Creevey was there. "First question?"

"Did you find the exchange rather odd?" asked Colin. George thought for a moment.

"Well, I guess you could put it that way. We were not pressured much, and the kidnappers were rather peaceful. It was rather odd for a political-related kidnaping."

"Do you think this is related to the controversy surrounding the election?" asked someone else.

"I think this was somehow related. Whether or not this was just an attempt by a terrorist group to cash in on the controversy, it is certainly related. I would not be surprised if the controversy was being done by the same exact group," came George's reply.

"Do you think this is all over?"

"I would not bet on it."

* * *

Three days later, the press had forgotten about this event. They were busy reporting political gossip. There were still no debates. Wizards were not into debates as much as Muggles. But there was a new enemy. This "Phantom of the Election." Lucius Malfoy wanted to kill this man, rip him apart till all his blood was gone, all his bones torn. Of course this was not public information.

But everyone figured it.

George Malfoy became the new hero of the world, not that he had done much. He just stayed modest, smiling for the press but never letting his new fame take over his mind. It had happened to Harry Potter, and it was not to happen to him.

Duke Dingo sat in his living room in his Outback house. He was very tired and had just finished off letters to Lucius, George, Merlin, Harry, and Draco. It was the least he could do.

The recipients considered it nice of him.

Thirty minutes later, Duke walked to his bed. He began to fall asleep the moment he touched it. Ah, it felt so good!

Then he almost jumped out of the bed. He could hear something in his house. It was loud. Very loud.

He pulled on a shirt and took out his wand. "Lumos," he said. There was a pale light shining at the tip of his wand.

He crept out of his bedroom, barely able to see, for his eyes were not cooperating. There was the sound again.

And again.

Footsteps. That's what they were. But not Duke's. There was someone else in his house.

Duke's mind went into overdrive. He had played this game before and had lost. Even though he had made it out alive, his parents...the image still haunted him.

The footsteps grew louder as Duke grew closer to the bathroom nearest the kitchen. His vision had warped into a bizarre collage. He yawned.

And an arrow zipped by his head. Duke gasped and nearly fainted. This was not an ideal situation to be in. Another arrow zipped by.

Duke put a shield around his body. But if the arrow's points had something on them Duke thought they would...he was dead. His charm would not work against the Dark Arts.

Slowly, Duke began to think. Wasn't the election about running for Minister? Trying to convince people you were the best? Why was he running for a killer?

"Look, you don't have to do this," Duke said. There was a muffled cough.

"Why?" came the response.

"You'll get caught. Trust me," Duke said.

"What if I'm not?"

"You will," Duke said once more. He hoped it was working.

"Do you know how many times I've heard that?" replied a killer. A hired killer.

"How many times have you tried to murder a man who was running for Minister?" Duke began to pray.

"What do you want to know?"

"Who are you working for?" Duke asked.

"I will not tell," said the killer.

"Is it someone involved with the election?" Duke asked. He just needed the answer.

"Yes," said the mysterious killer. "Now I will go." The footsteps faded away as the door opened and slammed shut. Duke was alive. He would have to inform the Ministry.

_Author's Note: Wow! That was the fastest writing I've ever done. I think. Anyway, this will keep you guessing till I get the next chapter out, which may be in over a month since I'm going to summer camp. But it may be tomorrow. School's about to go out, and if I get my computer...well, maybe I'll finish it! Oh yeah, thanks to Elizabeth Notrab for the phantom thing! Never thought of it that way!_


	9. Back in the Game

Election Chapter 9:

Back in the Game

* * *

Duke Dingo finished up his story. He was in Sydney, Wizard District or Asthenia. His two bodyguards stared at each other. "That's very bad," Kyle said.

"Yes, it is," Ethan said. These were definitely not brave bodyguards. He didn't care why William had gotten them from - they sucked.

Ethan began to have a twitch. William began to smile. The door opened. A man with a black cloak walked in.

"Hello, men. Name's Joel Coen," he said. He was a very suave man. He had a smile on his face. His eyes were blue, his hair blonde.

"Hello, Joel. I'm Ethan Hunt," Ethan said.

"Kyle Hart."

"Hello, you two. I've been brought down here by the _Ministry_ to get you two. Turns out the Ministry wants to protect the candidates now, and they don't want third parties doing it. We will compensate for any lost pay. Goodbye," Ethan said. He smiled. Kyle and Ethan left.

"So someone tried to kill you last night?" Joel asked Duke. Duke nodded.

"Yes, but then he left. I think he may come back," Duke said. "Unless his job was just to scare me. He was hired, and he must have been good. He used a bow or something, because he fired arrows at me."

"Hmm. That might have been his purpose. If he was going to kill you, he would have gotten much closer," Joel said.

"I agree," said Duke. "But he gave me one clue toward the identity of his boss."

"What?" said Joel.

"It's an insider," Duke said. "It's definitely an insider." Joel sighed.

"We were beginning to figure this. Was that all he said?" Joel asked.

"Yes," Duke said. "That was all." Joel looked as if he was about to punch the wall.

"Well, that's certainly more than we did know," he said. Duke agreed.

"I am tired of this phantom. He seriously needs to be stopped," Duke said. "It's not about politics anymore. It's about staying alive."

"It's always been about staying alive," Joel said.

"Life is about staying alive," Duke added.

"It most certainly is."

* * *

It was a gorgeous September morning in England. A man awoke in a barn. He was expecting someone. This man was groggy and had a headache. But he had more important things to deal with.

His name was Homer Lyte. There was a debate tomorrow in London's Dumbledore Square.

Naturally, everything was behind schedule.

He was expecting Heath Unable from the Wizard Political Association. They were holding tomorrow's debate.

Homer made his way to his office. He was astonished to find himself already dressed up in his clothes. He wasn't remembering much, that was for sure.

"Homer!" Heath said. Homer smiled.

"God, I'm tired."

"Homer, it's ten o'clock," Heath said.

"At night?"

"No, in the morning!" Heath clarified. Homer was out of it.

"Oh," Homer said. He collapsed into his chair - literally. "That was my head," he said.

"Now, here's the information on the debate," Heath said. "Actually, it's updated stuff we had to make; but you'll find security details and the like."

"Oh, I see," Homer said. "Hold on, let me get some coffee." Homer stood up and feel right back down again.

"Let me." Heath pulled out his wand, zapped a cup out of thin air, and put coffee in it magically. It was steaming hot.

"Thank you," Homer said. He picked it up, and the coffee missed his mouth, spilling onto his shirt.

"How cow!" Homer said, before launching into a little jig. The coffee was hot, and Homer certainly was now awake.

Heath said a charm, and the coffee turned cold. "Thank you," Homer said. He performed a cleaning charm on his shirt, the floor, and the chair.

"And you were saying, Heath?"

* * *

Duke Dingo and Merlin O'Brien shook hands. This was a return to the game they had been playing. A game of politics. "Good luck," Duke said.

"Same to you, my friend," was the reply from Merlin.

There was a show of lights, and Duke wondered if any invisibility charm would keep what they were seeing out of Muggle eyes.

"Welcome to the annual WPA political debate! Today we have Minister candidates Duke Dingo of the Peoples' Party and Merlin O'Brien of the Pureblood Party! Let's give a round of applause to these two fine men," said the moderator. There was thunderous applause. Duke liked the moderator's choice of words. The sun was just beginning to set.

"A little background on Duke: he was a key member in the formation of Students Against You-Know-Who. He grew up in Asthenia, Sydney, Australia. He was a political analyst for the Peoples' Party in his spare time. Let's give a round of applause for Duke Dingo!" The crowd roared once more as Duke did his trademark one-two punch.

"And then there's Merlin: businessman who owns Gringott's and hundreds of other corporations. He is one of the richest men in the world. Let's give a round of applause to the great Merlin O'Brien!" Merlin waved, and he noticed something. Duke Dingo was applauding.

"Thank you," Merlin told Duke.

"Don't mention it," replied Duke.

"Now, let's get started. First question is for both of you. How do you plan to improved education for wizards? Duke, you first," said the moderator.

"Well, I believe that as much hands-on activities as we've been doing, we need to concentrate more on the thinking skills, analyzing the details. Students will certainly achieve the success, and we may just have some philosophers," Duke said. The crowd cheered. Duke did his one-two punch, and the crowd cheered some more.

"Merlin, give us your opinion."

"Education is an important matter. However, we must consider the cost. People need lower costs. If we could somehow have lower costs and higher standards, we would have the tools to succeed," Merlin said. There was more applause from the crowd than Duke had received. Education was expensive, especially if you wanted a good one. Perhaps this was the answer.

"Great answers. Kudos to you both. Now, how would you handle the next You-Know-Who? Merlin, you first."

"I believe it lies in readiness. We must train responsive groups that will be able to handle a threat like that of which you are speaking of. If we are not, we are good as dead. We lucked out with You-Know-Who," Merlin said. Applause. How Merlin liked it!

"Duke, what input do you have on this?"

"I am afraid I agree with Merlin. We need a ready response team to deal with stuff like that. It would be nice not to have a long war when the next psychopath comes along," Duke said. The crowd cheered.

"Wow. It's rare two candidates have the same opinion, but at least it's a good one. Next question: how would you make peace between wizards and Muggles?" The crowd went silent. Usually this type of question was last, but this election was not a usual election. Duke, you first."

"I believe that we must put back the Muggle Informing of 1998. It's done, over with. The Sirs cleared it up. Few Muggles know who we are, and the Sirs are clearing that up. I believe that we have two options: present ourselves up front to Muggles or forever ignore them. And the person that would be able to make the best choice is the people. Yes, you," Duke said. It was easily the best way to sum it up. He was back in the game.

"What a way to sum it up. Now, Merlin," said the moderator. Merlin paused. He was a radical. Debates were the same time after time. He would give the same answer to the same question. And yet now, he felt cold. He felt evil for the first time.

Boy, did it feel good.

He shrugged it off.

"I believe that we should crush Muggles. We should crush them like they've never been crushed before. They are sick and lack what we have. We have power. But we've never used that power for what we _really_ wanted. I know what I want. Do you?" Merlin asked, finishing up his small speech. Surprisingly, it got tons of applause and cheers. It was the idea of power that roused the crowd. Power was a large thing, but if it was put in the wrong hands...disastrous things could happen.

"Wow," said the moderator. "Good points. Next question: what programs do you believe need better funding? Duke, you can start."

"Thank you. I believe that our first and foremost concern must be the future of our world. We need to make sure education is funded and our children educated. It's my concern, and I believe it should be your concern." The crowd cheered. Duke was trying to outdo Merlin, who was trying to outdo Duke. It was a fantastic spectacle.

Question after question came as Duke delivered pro-education, pro-peace speeches while Merlin delivered pro-defense, anti-Muggle speeches. It was fair to say both had their respective followers. Then the final question came.

"Why do you think you are the best candidate for Minister?" Both had expected this, but now it was different. They couldn't be as boastful as they wanted to be. Duke went first.

"I believe that I can carry out your thoughts, your hopes, your dreams and use my talents to guide you through the years. It would be my pleasure to be Minister of Magic," said Duke in a solemn tone. He did a slow one-two punch. The crowd exploded into a roar of happiness. Duke could feel the rush.

"Thank you, Duke. Merlin?"

"I think that for every new era, you need a new type of leader. A man who carries himself in a unique way that is different than others. I'm that man. Together, we can make our world safe from Muggle threats as they play with their nuclear toys, knowing they can end the world. They still play with these toys. Let's stop this. Muggles are a constant threat. And with you, we can stop them," Merlin said. He had already discussed the nuclear problem in a previous question. There was a standing ovation from the crowd. For once, his opinions were beginning to make sense to others. His hatred was pure hatred, but for a reason...wizards could die if they did not get rid of Muggles.

"Great points. Kudos go to both of you on your excellent work and great closing speeches. Let's give these men a round of applause. They deserve it," said the moderator. Fireworks began. Duke Dingo began to chat with Merlin.

"Good job, Mister O'Brien. I loved the bit with nuclear toys," Duke said, smiling.

"You, too, Duke. Education is one road that needs more traveling. You're a strong advocate on the subject," Merlin replied.

"Good luck," Duke said.

"Same for you," replied Merlin. And with that exchange, the two departed, each with a new respect for each other.

* * *

A single soul sat in an office. He went constantly over his plan, but it had backfired. Just a few weeks before, an assassin he had sent to kill Duke Dingo. This assassin happened to like Duke enough not to kill him. This assassin was also dead.

The man had also learned his identity was slowly being revealed. No, he could not let this happen. His owl, Beelzebub, tapped on his window. He opened it, letting the owl in.

"Hello, Beelzebub. How is everything today?" he asked his owl. The owl hooted.

"Shush!" the man whispered to his owl. "I do not want to give myself away." The owl seemed to nod. Could it have understood?

He pulled a plain white envelope out of the owl's beak. "Lumos," he muttered. He began to read the letter. It was about the debate. So, it was too close to tell who won.

He took out the light on his wand and burned his letter. Then the light came back on.

Duke Dingo was having a lavish party during the election day of December 22. Duke was an interesting fellow. He was an unknown. The man would never trust Duke with the most important position in the world. But it was what half the people thought.

But back to the banquet. The man had just acquired something that cost him five million galleons. And it was for sale only on the black market. Turned out to be something only the Ministry had. But the kidnaping had gone just perfect; and it gave the press that intention, too. The intention that the Ministry could handle something serious like that with ease. It was completely false. And the man would prove them wrong...* * *

The world had fallen under this false impression. The Ministry hadn't. They took every false threat seriously. The Sirs were working hard to catch the Phantom of the Election. The leaves were not falling in October in the tree-lined streets of Asthenia, but Duke did not see them. He apparated straight from his home to the civic center's stage's backstage area.

"Now, Duke, you've got to put on make-up. People are not going to be able to see you on that stage if you don't have it on," said the make-up woman.

"Look, I don't have my clothes on. I need those first," Duke said.

"Oh," said the make-up woman. "Well, go do that." Duke ran to the costuming room.

"Look, I've got this elegant Wizard Wear robe thing going on here. There's emerald, olive, blue, black..." said the man, going on and on.

"How about black?" Duke asked. "And I could wear some nice shirt under it?"

"Sure, thing, baby!" said the costumer. He gave Duke his stuff, and Duke moved on to make-up.

"Hello, Duke. Back again?" asked the woman. Duke mentally rolled his eyes. "Well, a touch here and there..."

Duke came out looking no different than he had before. What was the purpose?

"Now, Duke, we've got a voice charm set so just talk normally, dude. You'll do great," said a staff member. Duke smiled. There had been a boost in morale since the absence of the phantom.

Duke walked into the blinding light of the stage. The crowd was large. Duke scratched his nose.

"Hello, supporters! First, of all, I want to tell you how much it means to me that my hometown supports me," Duke said while the crowd cheered. He could recognize a few faces in the crowd.

"It's amazing to come home and find your own fan club. It's very amazing. It's really great. I can make out some familiar faces in the crowd, which is great as well." Duke caught his breath; he could feel the rush of adrenaline surging through his body as if there was no tomorrow.

"Coming home has been one of the greatest experiences I've ever had. It's been a great homecoming; I'd like to thank the guys that run my campaign and the people of Asthenia." The crowd cheered once more and broke out into applause.

And Duke broke out into his most emotional speech yet, but he felt like it should be shared with the people that knew him best. The crowd laughed and cried and cheered as he recounted the story of his campaign to the crowd.

After it was over, Duke was met by Joel; and they walked to the refreshments table. Duke met with many people.

"Who's the man?" asked every person.

"My bodyguard," Duke would say.

"What the heck you need a bodyguard for?" the response would be.

"Well, the Ministry put him on me..." Duke would respond.

The people discussed politics, how much they missed him, and the hot weather of the summer months they were in, among other things.

Joel led Duke out two hours later. He looked at Colin.

"You did well today, Colin. You just may win the election. And in the event of a tie, I think it's a chance the Ministry would choose you," he said. Duke sighed.

"You think?" he asked.

"I'd bet my wife on it," Joel replied.

"But you don't have a wife," Duke said.

"We've got two months to election - I can find one," Joel said with a smile.

* * *

The election was nearing. Duke and Merlin were pulling every possible publicity stunt possible: full page ads in newspapers and magazines, mudslinging, et cetera. They became rivals once more. Duke had unleashed the pro-education campaign to a hungry public, to which Merlin struck back with what William liked to call a "Die, Muggles, Die!!!" campaign.

Typical Pureblood Party stuff.

The Sirs had contacts at all election-related places: newspapers, campaign headquarters and bases...and they were no further then they ever had been.

Because this phantom was one step ahead of them. He was a criminal mastermind, hanging low before the ultimate climax.

Colin Creevey became completely pro-Duke. He had written a series of articles on both candidates, comparing them. He had rated them on a scale of 1-100. Duke came out with a 97, while Merlin got a 92. It was a close race, the closest ever.

But there was something no one had been even thinking about: the Liberation Party. They had almost gone bankrupt, and the Peoples' Party had basically replaced them as the other strong political force.

Many people had withdrawn their membership from the Liberation Party, replacing it in the Peoples' Party.

The world still spun. Every poll had the opposite result of the last poll. It was clear Duke represented the ideals of the current Minister, but not many people still had faith in the current Minister. He had taken six months to resolve the Muggle Informing of 1998. People wanted power in office.

Soon enough, it was December first. The Christmas shopping rush had began, and both candidates were using stores as a channel for advertising.

Merlin began to promote himself as a strong leader, while Duke promoted peace through morality and not brute force. Duke was now pulling ahead in the polls, and you could see why: his campaign was not as radical as his rival's.

But Merlin's drop was only about five percent, not much. Cornelius Fudge had been down twenty percent before winning his first term as Minister. Candidates were often known for beating the odds, and Merlin wanted to be no different.

And yet, the election drew closer. Plans were made by the Ministry's Office of Voting and the mysterious phantom. The mysterious phantom had plans calling for events at the Office of Voting and Duke's election night banquet. Australia would be the last country to vote.

The phantom had big plans for December 22nd, the most anticipated Friday of the year. He wanted to make it a Friday no one would ever forget.

_Author's Note: I've never written that much in a day. I amaze myself sometimes. Well, I guess I could finish Chapter 10, the final chapter, tomorrow. I have it all planned, and everything will be revealed! You can leave your guesses on who the phantom is in your review! I want to thank everyone who's stuck with this story for your support. It's a shame it doesn't get many hits now... Either way, it's been a blast to write!_


	10. One-Two Punch

Election Chapter 10:

One-Two Punch

* * *

It was December 19th. Duke had begun receiving Christmas presents from around the world, as had Merlin. The election was tomorrow, and they had basically been the same since October, launching into a series of political tactics against the other.

Voters had set record lows this year with their absentee voting. There was a great amount of interest in the election, also a record high.

The Ministry was hard at work, trying to sort out everything and stop voting fraud.

How tough it would be for them. The phantom's plan was very carefully laid out. This was how voting worked: ballots were pieces of paper with a candidate's name on them. They were placed inside a voting stone, a large red stone in a room. The final count would be apparated to London.

This was where his plan came in. The voting stones were cursed (though they were supposed to be curse-proof) and would send the wrong total. A total that favored Merlin O'Brien.

The phantom sat in his office chair and relaxed. His team was preparing in Sydney. It would be a Friday to remember.

* * *

Duke Dingo wiped the sweat off his brow. He was so nervous, so tense, it wasn't funny.

"Just relax, Duke. It's only Wednesday. The election's two days away. You're going to win," Joel said. Joel had been a great friend these past few months.

"It's just so weird," Duke said. "It's been building up to this day." Joel nodded.

"Yes, it most certainly has. Look, you've got a big chance you're going to win. Look at the polls," Joel replied.

"The polls are what a select few think," Duke replied. Joel sighed. There was just no convincing Duke.

"You've got to be brave," said Joel. "You have to be brave. Face the pressure, pal."

Duke thought for a moment. He was watching the banquet being set up at the Keystone Hotel in Asthenia. The room was white, and banners with Duke and William smiling were being hung.

"This phantom...do you think someone in my campaign involved?" Duke asked. "He has been acting rather odd the past few months."

"That's a very odd assumption. But it's always possible," Joel said. Duke scratched his chin.

"Is security going to be very tight Friday?" Duke asked. Joel swallowed, thinking for a moment.

"Definitely," he said. "The Ministry told me a while back that one of the spell enhancement devices has been stolen. I'm not taking any chances. Me and William are planning the tightest security possible."

"Tell me about one of those devices," Duke said.

"Well, it's a little add-on to your wand. It adds some more punch to your spell. It's rather small, but it took five years to make. With it, you can take a simple spell and turn it deadly. Or you can turn a deadly spell even deadlier," Joel said. Duke gulped.

"That's a scary thought," Duke said.

"It most certainly is," replied Joel.

* * *

Merlin O'Brien was also holding a similar banquet. But that was on Friday, and it was still Wednesday. He walked into the office of Homer Lyte.

It was empty, save for Homer's owl. There was a letter on the desk. Homer's owl hooted. What was its name again? Ah, yes, Beelzebub. Beelzebub was a magnificent, yet small, brown owl.

"What's this letter?" he asked the owl, not expecting a reply. He did not receive a reply. There was just something about the letter that stood out. Merlin began to open the letter.

Dear Homer,

Everything is set for Friday. Crews are in place. If your voting scheme doesn't work, we have a great back-up. If it does, we will carry on with the plan anyway. Security is in place; the right people have been hired, and the enhancement device is ready.

Have a great Friday,

William

Merlin put the letter down, shocked. The phantom of the election was Homer Lyte! And William - William Henry most likely - was in on it, too. It was a strange turn of events. Merlin pocketed the letter and took off for the Ministry.

* * *

The Ministry's Office of Voting building was bustling with activity. The Sirs happened to have an office there. Merlin O'Brien walked in, and all activity seemed to cease.

Everyone stared at Merlin. Merlin smiled. "I need to speak with whoever's in charge of voting scams," Merlin said. The same thought ran through everyone's head: was Merlin O'Brien involved in a scam?

"Sure thing, Mister O'Brien," said a man, leading Merlin to an office. It was the office of the Sirs.

"I've caught the man you've wanted," Merlin said. "Your phantom." The two Sirs looked at each other.

"Explain," said one - code name: Charlie Chaplin. The other's code name was Victor Fleming.

"Well, I walked into Homer Lyte's office. He's my campaign manager. His owl was sitting on a perch. There was a letter on his desk, addressed to him. It stood it; it was not mixed up with other letters on the table. Rather, it was in the center of the desk," Merlin said. He waited for the reaction before continuing.

"The letter's in my pocket. Here." Merlin handed the letter over to Charlie. Charlie and Victor began to read over it.

"I see," said Victor. "And it's Duke's banquet. You've got yourself a rather large fan in Homer. You're throwing away a huge supporter." Victor smirked, admiring his joke. But it was ironic.

"And basically you get that. But why they needed five million galleons is not clear," Merlin said.

"Did we connect this with the kidnaping yet?" Charlie asked.

"No," Merlin said.

"Exactly. So don't talk about it," Charlie said. Merlin nodded.

"Yes, Sir," Merlin said.

"Victor," Charlie said. Merlin was now beginning to find out these men's names.

"Yes?" the obedient Victor asked.

"I want _all_ voting stones replace. Every last one of them. We need to take over security at Merlin and Duke's banquets. Got that?" Victor nodded. "I want our best men on the job. _Now_!"

Victor immediately ran out the door, and Merlin heard the building practically go bonkers.

"Another day at the office," Charlie said.

"May I inquire your name?" Merlin asked.

"Chaplin. Charlie Chaplin."

* * *

Day: Thursday, December 21st. Place: Homer Lyte's office in the barn. Homer Lyte is had just entered his office, only to discover his owl dead.

"Oh, God," he said. The owl's head was severed off in a bloody mess. "Beelzebub," he said. There was a note on his desk. It was addressed to him in Merlin's handwriting. Homer stared at it for a few moments. He could open it now...but he did not. He was too busy brooding over Beelzebub.

He knew what had happened. They were onto him. Beelzebub was dead, and there was a letter on his desk addressed to him from Merlin. He wondered if Merlin had killed Beelzebub. He looked at the letter.

You're caught, Homer.

Homer stared at the letter. It was just one sentence written in the center. That was all. But it's message was simple. Homer was caught. Homer quickly ran out the door, into the barn's main hallway.

"Hey, freeze!" said a man. Homer shot off, weaving his way through the people in the halls, unaware of Homer's guilt.

Homer run into a man, knocking down the man's papers. "Watch where you going!" said the man. Homer kicked him before going on.

Homer continued. He knew where to hide. He knew the layout of the barn like the back of his hand. Homer found his way to the back door. He ran through it - almost literally.

"Come back, Homer! Come back!" yelled the same man. He was a physically fit man that ran much faster than Homer had thought.

"I'm not coming back! My plan is done! I have succeeded," Homer said, out of breath.

"Come on, Homer, you're done with! You're going to Azkaban!" said the man. "It's a done deal."

"I don't want to go to Azkaban!" said Homer. Homer began to take out his wand. The man jumped back inside as Homer unleashed a stream of sparks, yelling maniacally.

"You're insane, Homer Lyte! Insane! Your plan has failed! The voting stones have been replaced, and we've got the spell enhancement device!" the man said. Homer sighed. His plan had failed.

The man was lying. The voting stones had been replaced, but the enhancement device had not been. But Homer did not know that.

"Tell me your name!" Homer said.

"What?" asked the man.

"I want to know who will kill me! Tell me your name!" Homer said once more.

"Victor! Victor Fleming!" said Victor.

"Victor, I'm going to die," Homer said solemnly. He lit a fire with his wand between Victor and Homer.

"Don't kill yourself; it's only worse!" Victor said.

"It's exactly the same!" Homer replied. He threw his wand into the fire. It burned quickly.

In one swift motion, Victor jumped through the fire, in a motion so quickly his clothes did not catch on fire. Homer stared in awe.

"Homer, just come with me," Victor said. There was a burst of wind, and the fire grew larger on the dry grass, inching closer to the barn. Victor put it out with his wand.

"I'm not coming with you," Homer said. "It's a fate worse than death."

"And you've paid for it," Victor replied, stating the truth. Homer nodded.

"Just kill me now," Homer said. "And it'll all be over with. You'll be a hero, and I'll be dead."

"Would you really like me to?" Victor asked, playing Homer. Homer smiled.

"I certainly wouldn't mind," Homer replied with a touch of humor.

"Then today's just not your lucky day. Follow me, or I will kill you," Victor said, pointing his wand at Homer. The mastermind obeyed.

* * *

Duke Dingo still had one problem: William Henry. But right now he did not know that. He was chatting up a storm with Joel.

"How does this spell enhancement device work?" Duke asked. "I never thought you could increase magic with something artificial."

"That's the joy of it," Joel said. "Its source of power, if you may, is not artificial."

"What?" Duke asked.

"Every person has magic inside them, whether it be good or bad. This device draws that magic from the heart," Joel said. "The heart is where it counts."

An envelope appeared in Joel's lap a second later. It was plain white with nothing written on it. Joel opened it.

"Duke, get a new running mate," he said. "Do you have a back-up?" Duke looked at him in confusion.

"What do you mean?" Duke asked.

"I'm saying your running mate is part of this scam," Joel said. There were footsteps behind the two. They turned around and were standing face-to-face with William Henry, who had quite an evil look in his eyes.

"Why do you crazy people just go insane when you're caught?" Joel asked. William glanced at him.

"You tell me," William said, becoming insane. Joel rolled his eyes as William took out his wand. Attached to the end was the enhancement device, a white point that extended the wand.

"A spell enhancement device," Duke said. "William, you always wanted power."

"And if it wasn't for you, I'd be running for Minister!" William yelled. Power was a tough thing.

"He certainly played his disguise well," Joel said.

"But he really ran the show. He wouldn't let me do much," Duke said. "Now I know why. I had the power thing figured out, but never this."

"It's time for me to step out of the shadows. You're a dumb Australian with a political background. You don't have the experience to be Minister, even if you did run Students Against You-Know-Who," William said.

Duke began to wonder. Yes, this man was right. Duke did not have much political experience on the international level, but he was capable of doing it. Would people really trust in Duke?

"I thought about that, too. But being Minister is not just about experience, it's about confidence and organization," Duke responded. Joel smiled.

"You're under arrest, Mister Henry," Joel said.

"You know, this spell enhancement thing is rather nifty, no matter how dumb the concept," William said. William put on a pair of Muggle sunglasses. "Lumos!" he yelled, and there was a blinding flash of light as Duke and Joel ducked for cover. The light went out moments later.

There were dots floating around the sky in Duke's eyes. Joel had jumped early enough to save his eyesight. Duke had barely made it.

"Punk," Joel said, kicking the wand out of William's hand. He snapped the wand and pocketed the spell enhancement device.

"You do have a back-up, right?" he asked to Duke. Duke smiled.

"If I'm elected, I'll get one," Duke said. William Henry jumped on top of Duke and began to punch him in the face. Duke kicked William in the back to no effect. Joel pulled William off of Duke.

"Going with me, William?" he asked to the criminal. William shook his head and kicked Joel where men do not want to be kicked.

Duke recovered and tripped William, sending the man off his feet with a twisted ankle. He began to kick the man in the stomach.

"That's enough!" Joel yelled, pushing Duke off of William. "There' s no need to kill this man. He'll get enough with life in Azkaban." Duke nodded.

"Azkaban?" William asked. "Oh, God. Not Azkaban. Anywhere but there."

"It's not my fault, Willie. If you hadn't agreed to this scheme, you'd be in the running for vice-Minister. But you did agree, and you're stuck with this," Joel said, laying out the facts. And for once, William Henry had regrets.

* * *

Merlin O'Brien was at his lovely banquet in the Wizard District of London. He greeted people with a certain elegance and respect, as did Lucius.

Merlin even had a philosophy that day: "If we don't win, it's been one ride I'll never forget."

And the way things were turning out, it would be the closest rave ever. Merlin liked that. He knew that if he lost, Duke would be a great Minister. But he didn't plan on losing.

So far he had taken amazingly taken Spain, Portugal, and Italy. Duke had taken Australia, all of Asia, Africa, and England. But only England and Australia had a large portion of wizards. The rest were rather small. Other countries were reporting in as well. There had been some delays in voting, as was expected with the problems they had been having.

They'd been at Merlin's banquet for the last few hours when results came in: Merlin had taken about seven other European countries, while Duke had taken the rest. The crucial vote was in the Americas.

* * *

Duke Dingo's banquet was the longest. They started when Australia ended voting and would end when the Americas finished, almost twenty-four hours. It was really more than a banquet, sort of like a convention.

He had just received the latest results. He had gotten some nice countries, but it was still a majority vote. Whenever he got a country, it meant that he had the majority. And Duke felt good.

But he only had a 200,000 vote lead on Merlin. Feel good, he told himself. Don't get too tired. Just feel good. Look nice.

When he had told people who was involved in the huge controversy around the election, no one had believed it. But then Joel flashed his Ministry ID card, and they believed Duke. Not many people seemed to have had much trust in William, even if he had been a respected journalist.

The world was Duke's root beer, his soup du jour, if you may. He was on top of it. He was Mount Everest, and the voters were the world. What did Cornelius Fudge think of all this? he wondered.

Cornelius Fudge was glad to be stepping down. He had given twenty years of his life in this job, and he had even cast his vote for Duke. If he could have passed a law that said you had to vote for Duke, he would have.

Duke would never know who voted for him, and he never would unless a voter told him. He was living life in the fast line, excited yet sometimes queasy all at the same time.

Then the results for the Americas came in. The crowd waited for them. Duke read them with the most sincerity he could.

"South America entirely goes to Merlin O'Brien," he said. He was now down by about a thousand votes.

"Central America goes to me," Duke said. The crowd cheered. "Please remember Central America has five hundred wizards." The crowd suddenly saddened. The vote was even closer.

"And the final two countries are the United States and Canada. They go to - oh my - me!" The crowd cheered, Duke did his one-two punch over and over, and confetti became the dominate force in the room. Duke's legs were basically plucked as he hit the floor. The joy in his heart was undescribable. People came up to him, congratulating him.

"Awesome, Duke. You did awesome. You're the first Australian Minister of Magic," Joel said. He had a huge smile on his face, and he looked almost goofy. Duke smiled back and gave his newfound friend a hug.

"You're a real pal. I'll be seeing you around soon; we both know that," Duke replied.

* * *

Merlin and Lucius had just received the news. Lucius began to cry, while Merlin just sat there deep in thought.

"I thought we had it," Lucius said, just repeating himself over and over again. Merlin put his hand on Lucius's shoulder.

"Things like this happen. We've both taken blows to the chest. It's an especially hard blow to the chest, but we're gonna go down in history. Now we can get back to our lives," Merlin said. Lucius smiled.

"My son...I must get back to terms with my son," Lucius said. Merlin began to cry, and Lucius started up again.

"I poured a year into this!" Merlin said. "Gave up my business positions and everything for this! And look what I'm going down in history for: losing an election! It's not fair! It's just not fair..."

The two sat there, depressed. But they had fallen to Duke Dingo's one-two punch. Any other person would have as well.

* * *

It was a sunny day: Monday, January 1st, 2001. It was the day of Duke's inauguration. He had a Vice Minister as well, Keith Saracens, who had been a close advisor to Cornelius Fudge. The man was practically a genius.

"I will take these duties as Minister of Magic," Duke said after taking the Oath of Office. Cornelius Fudge shook his hand.

"If you ever need me to help you," Cornelius said, "I'll be there." Duke nodded.

"I'm sure I'll call on you a lot," Duke said. Cornelius politely laughed and took a seat at the back of the stage.

And Duke began his speech, his first act as Minister of Magic.

* * *

That day, Duke began to set his things up in his office. He was introduced to the heads of various departments, as well as shown a tour of the Ministry offices. "Nice place," he had commented.

Once he was done, he sat down in an eloquent leather chair. It was rather comfortable. He then began to look over some of the letters on his desk.

There was a knock at the door, and Duke jumped up. He ran to the door and opened it to find a newly-promoted Joel. Joel was now in the Crime Investigation division of the Ministry.

"We got a problem, Duke. Let me explain," Joel said. "Sit down." Duke jumped into his chair, while Joel took the seat across.

"Look in this folder, and you'll see two men. Nathan Talon is the man in Picture A, and Joe Young is the man in Picture B," Joel said. Duke looked at the pictures of two men.

"So?" Duke asked.

"They just escaped from Azkaban," Joel said. "They committed totally separate crimes. Nathan murdered his neighbor and his family, while Joe murdered his brother."

"When did they get in Azkaban?" Duke asked.

"A week ago. That's when prisoners begin to lose their sanity," Joel answered.

"What do you want me to do?" Duke asked.

"You're going to help me," Joel said.

"Do what?" Duke asked again. He did not want to chase two lunatics.

"You're going to help me pick a team to stop these guys."

_Author's Note: And that's the end! Notice I did not put the words "The End" at the end, because it's not the end of these characters. Since most of my fics take place in the same world, you'll see more of most of these characters. What did you think of the surprise ending? Were you expecting it? I hope it was unexpected. Anyway, after this expect the prequel to _Colin Creevey Versus the Apocalypse_ entitled _The Rampage_. It'll be a while, since I leave for summer camp Sunday...but I want to thank every last one of you that stuck with this story. You guys are my fans, and you guys are the people that review my stories. And if you haven't reviewed _Election_ yet, please do so. I'd like to know what you though, because then how would I know? As I said, the same people usually review my stuff - not that I don't appreciate it. Thanks for everything and please review! If you say I'm a genius, I will put you in my thoughts! If you say this story is genius, I will forever love you...maybe. If you like this fic, God bless you. May you read more and await my next. Thank you. Oh yeah, I want ALL OF YOU to review! :-)_


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